1000 Thoughts or Less

Moving!

2008-11-10T19:19:00.003Z

I've moved this blog over to cliveandrews.com, so if you'd like to read or comment on anything, that's the place to go. All this content is there too.

Doing the DO - A weekend with howies - PART 1

2008-09-10T20:28:00.016Z

I've just returned from an amazing four days as the guest of howies for the inaugural DO Lectures.

howies is a clothing company who try to be a little bit different, a little bit thoughtful and to do the right thing whenever they can. They 'tax' themselves 1% of their annual turnover in order to do good stuff. And this year, they decided their 'Earth Tax' would best be spent hosting a series of lectures where inspirational people got to talk to an invited audience of folks in need of inspiration. Places were limited and applications were by handwritten letter only.

And so it was that a hastily scrawled note gave me a great way to end my planned cycling holiday in South West Wales. The DO Lectures 08 were held near Cardigan at fforest, a kind of luxury campsite with comfy tents, a beautiful setting and great organic food.

The DO speakers varied from philosophers to beekeepers, climbers and surfers to activists and architects. There was tremendous diversity in the range of subjects, but a common thread of inspiration that was clear in everyone we heard and spoke to.

The DO Lectures website has information on all the speakers, along with books and websites personally recommended by each of them. Videos of each lecture will soon be avaiable on the site.

There is also a DO Lectures Flickr group and a DO Lectures Facebook group.

Here's a quick summary of the folks we heard on days 1 and 2 of the four-day event, together with some of my thoughts.

I'll add notes from the third and fourth days soon.

Ken Yeang - Architect

"We can't have 100% comfortable eco-architecture. We need to change our expectations of comfort."

Ken is an architect specialising in buildings that attempt to re-connect the built environment with the natural environment upon which it sits. He showed us highlights from his career, with a specialism in tall office buildings and complex urban schemes.

Ken's approach was characterised by the use of vegetation to connect buildings with their landscape. This extended not only planting on roofs and landbridges, but by placing greenery on the vertical areas and in interior 'skycourts' to visibly blur the boundaries of what he called the grey infrastructure, the green infrastructure and 'the red infrastructure' (humans).

We also heard about Ken's thoughts on the subjects more conventionally associated with the term 'green architecture': issues of ventilation, lighting and efficiency. He made it clear that these mechanisms should always be employed intelligently, but that their capabilities would never match those of fully mechanical systems. If we are to achieve a less energy-intensive environment, we need to make some sacrifices with our expectations of comfort.

Listening to Ken's lecture took me back to university days, as architecture grapples with engineering, creativity and sociology all in one go. The complexity of Ken's work was clear to us all. I found myself thinking about the additional resources needed to maintain the growth of vegetation planted on the walls of a skyscraper, and queried whether this was a responsible use of energy, fertiliser and human time. Ken acknowleged the concern but reminded me that there is a trade-off between the resources needed in order to build this way and the beneficial effects of integrating more fully with our landscape. He cited studies which have shown that recovery times in hospitals can be improved when patients' windows are fringed with trees and plants. Benefits such as this, he pointed out, make it all worthwhile.

More about Ken Yeang

Michael Braungart - Chemist

"Forget eco-efficiency. Go for eco-effectiveness."

Micheal Braungart applies his rational, scientific thinking to our way of living and points out the contradictions we accept. He suggests possible solutions to the crises we face, as well as some we didn't even notice.

He began by observing, through measured examples, the amount of toxic chemicals we allow into our lives. Clothing, luggage, furnishings, toys and foods were all pointed out to be havens for substances harmful to our health and that of our planet.

He then looked at some of the assumptions we make when we consider these issues, and proposed that our thinking is drastically flawed.

For example, Michael raised the issue of overpopulation. Are there too many of us on the planet, or are we just looking after each other badly? Apparently, the world's population of ants occupies four times more mass on Earth than do humans, yet we don't consider them to overpopulated. "Are we too many, or too stupid?" asked Michael.

Our approach to energy consumption was next in Michael's thinking. He challenged the consensus that decides we consume too much energy and that we must reduce our consumption. It is not the energy we need to re-allocate, he argued, but the materials we consume in our pursuit of energy. We consume coal, oil and uranium, and it becomes carbon dioxide, radioactive waste and other substances. The energy is not the real issue.

Michael extended this thinking to the manufacturing process, and our consumption of materials. He challenged the conventions of recycling, pointing out that we are rarely truely recovering the full benefit of the material when it progresses to its next use.

Interestingly, Michaul Braungart spoke in terms of 'technical nutrients', encouraging us to think of polythene, steel and carbon fibre as substances which can nourish our lives before they assume a different role and serve a different purpose. Incineration or landfill are ways of consigning these nutrients to the dustbin, rather than finding ways to 'Upcycle' them into their next use.

He did not blame us, as consumers, for the waste in our society. All we want, he noted, is to have clean clothes, comfortable feet, or effective communication. Yet when we buy washine machines, shoes or telephones, we are also buying bundles of materials and chemicals that are of no interest to us. We should buy the service, not the product, he proposed. Let's buy televisions by the hour, or computers by the year. Establishing realistic lifespans for products would help us to manage their disassembly and upcycling.

The were so many other nuggets of fresh thinking in Michael Braungart's DO lecture that I instantly decided I would be buying his book. Its title, Cradle to Cradle, is the term he has coined to represent his way of thinking. It was really challenging to have so much established wisdom (overpopulation, recycling, energy, even breastfeeding) examined and queried. Michael Braungart's ideas were not always easy to listen to, but were certainly worth the time spent reconsidering conventional wisdom.

More about Michael Braungart

Yun Hider - Wild food forager

"Calling them weeds does huge disrespect to them. They are very tasty plants."

Yun Hider makes his living by foraging - by finding and picking edible plants, leaves and flowers. He gave us an entertaining whistle-stop tour of the species we may want to find next time we're feeling peckish. There were even samples to try, and an optional workshop that ventured out into the woods. His enthusiasm and knowledge of his subject was evident, and I feel inspired to look at forest vegetation in a new light, though I may still steer clear of that wild roquette I've seen growing by the side of the south circular...

More about Yun Hider

Trevor Baylis - Inventor

"The most important thing is to find the thing you love doing and to keep doing it."

Trevor Baylis is most famed for his invention of the wind-up radio, and was arguably the most popularly known of all the DOers. He gave us a highly entertaining summary of his career, from competitive schoolboy swimmer, to his national service, his time as a stuntman, escape artist and then engineer.

Though his wind-up inventions are the most successful part of his history, he showed us some of the other items in his CV. An easily-constructed swimming pool for schools and a modular system of aids for physically disabled people gave a clue that Trevor's motivation has always been to solve problems - not to invent things for their own sake, but to make things easy or more affordable. His feted wind-up radio came about through a realisation of the need for rural Africans to have access to health information without a reliance on scarce expensive batteries.

Trevor Baylis's Do Lecture was highly entertaining and full of amusing anectodes. However, every so often, Trevor would show his anger and frustration as to how difficult it has been for him, and for other inventors, to get their ideas taken seriously. He showed us countless letters of rejection from funding bodies, investors and government agencies. Particulair disdain was reserved for the Design Council. "Bastards."

The messages were clear:

As a society, we need to take inventors seriously. We need to encourage and welcome inventions from everyone, including the young and the female - two groups Trevor believes have been historically overlooked in this field.

And as individuals we need to display determination in getting our ideas taken seriously. If we believe in something, Trevor insisted we must persevere, even when we're told our ideas unfeasible or impractical.

More about Trevor Baylis

John Grant - Marketer

"If you sell your product as green, people will try to find fault. If you have a good product, sell it as one."

John Grant didn't deliver a DO Lecture. In his place, two glove puppets, a sheep named Love and a wolf named Greed, played out a series of conversations illustrating real-life examples of the difficulties that arise within social enterprises. We witnessed, though the voices of Greed and Love, the challenges that arise when entrepreneurship comes together with the desire to operate an ethical business or enterprise.

Love (the sheep) found herself partnering with Greed (the wolf) in order to bring business skills to her social enterprise. We heard them ponder various quandaries as they found themselves motivated by different aspects of working together.

It seemed that for several people in the audience, the puppet show struck a chord. People already involved in social enterprise seemed to relate very strongly to the ideas John was illustrating with his furry friends.

More about John Grant

Guy Watson - Farmer

"Pandering to customers and offering choice can be a barrier to doing things responsibly."

Guy Watson told us the story of his organic vegetable delivery company, Riverford Organic. He explained how, having grown up on a farm, and gone on to be a high-flying businessman in the 1980s, he returned to the UK to his farming roots, going on to establish a highly successful co-operative between Devon farmers, producing fruit and vegetables which are distributed nationally via franchisees.

It was clear that Guy is an ambitious businessman who balances his commercial progress with a desire to operate in an evironmentally sound way. He acknowledged that there have been many challenges and difficult decisions, and spoke of studies he's conducted to calculate which part of the growing and delivery process is most responsible for CO2 emissions.

His tip for the audience? "If you're getting into any business venture with anyone, ask them where they want to be in 10 years."

More about Guy Watson

Andrew Whitley - Baker

"There is something in the making and sharing of bread that counters the negative trends in our society"

Andrew Whitley's lecture concerned the state of bread as purchased in the high streets of the UK. He is a professional baker, having set up his own bakery several years ago in a small Cumbria village. Andrew explained to us how, in the interests of economy and industrialisation, much of the goodness of wheat has been removed, and many additional ingredients added.

After a technical analysis of bread's various ingredients, he then spoke about how bread has historically played an important role in our society, providing nourishment and requiring time and patience.

Andrew proposed that if we stop demanding fast, cheap bread, and return to an emphasis on quality, the benefits will be great for not only our health, but for society in general.

Andrew Whitley is a great advocate of baking one's own bread, and he held a breadmaking workshop the following day, the rsults of which were shared at mealtimes and were very tasty.

More about Andrew Whitley

Further notes from the third and fourth days of the DO Lectures will follow soon...

An Easy Guide to Buying a Bike

2008-07-14T20:26:00.006Z

It’s summertime. So, of course, it’s the time of year when everyone rummages in the shed, finds their bike lying unloved and rusty where it was deposited after a wet ride last year, and decides to treat themselves to a new machine. It’s not surprising that bike shops do their best business during these warm sunny months.

It’s also the time of year when I get most emails, texts and phone calls from friends looking for a few tips on what kind of bike should be their next purchase.

I don’t mind helping friends with bike questions at all. In fact, I love it - there's nothing quite like the simple pleasure of spending someone else's money in a bike shop. But, in recognition of the fact I repeat the same advice to numerous people, I thought I should summarise the key points somewhere online.

So here, carefully distilled, are some of the nuggets of wisdom I most frequently suggest. Some are the answers to questions that often appear in my inbox, on my phone or across a pub table, while others, frankly, are just well-intentioned rants I feel the need to pass on to any friend who will listen.

Of course, not all my friends are bike beginners – many are far more knowledgeable than me. So bikers, feel free to criticise and add to what follows. And the rest of you, I hope this stuff comes in handy when you step into the bike shop.

Here goes…

1. It doesn’t matter which make you buy.
More than any other question I get asked, the most frequent is “What’s a good make?”. But it’s also the question that matters least. There are many good bikes out there, made by many companies. And to be honest, as long as you have a realistic budget, and you don’t go for inappropriate gimmicks, it’s very hard to buy a bad bike. Unless you go for the wrong size.

2. It does matter where you buy.
So much more important than the brand you buy is the shop you buy from. Ask where friends bought their bikes. Shop around. Which bike retailer seems to be the most genuine? Who seems to ask the right questions about you and your riding? Who would you feel comfortable coming back to with a problem or a query? See if anyone is willing to throw in a few extras (helmet, lights, a lock, maybe) but don’t be greedy – a saving of £25 on accessories is arguably not as valuable as the reassurance of buying from a local shop you like and trust.

2. Choose your weapon.
The make may not matter, but the type of bike certainly does. Be realistic about your needs. Fast and speedy road bike? Versatile street/hybrid machine? Or rufty tufty mountain bike? If in doubt about what you’ll be doing, veer toward the off-road end of the spectrum. It’s easier to adapt a mountain bike later to make it speedier on the road than it is to convert a road bike for off-road duties.

3. Don’t be afraid to spend a bit of money.
A few times, friends with a fair bit of money in their back pockets have asked for my opinions on new bikes costing under £150. For a new bike, £150 is really not much money to spend at all. In fact, the quality is likely to be so low that they would be put off cycling for life. If you’re looking to buy a bike on a budget, then consider the fact that at that level, an extra £50 or £100 can make a world of difference. Upwards of around £300, bikes start to become the kind of machine you can ride on a regular basis with some feeling of enjoyment. If this seems a lot, check out secondhand options.

4. Don’t forget secondhand options.
If you’re struggling to afford a decent new machine, then yes, there is always the secondhand market. For the price of a brand new pile of shiny creaking scaffolding poles, you can find a perfectly good pre-owned bike. The usual warnings apply as with anything bought secondhand, especially via the internet. If you find a bargain, be sure that the bike you’re buying is the right fit and size for you. The only way to be sure is to visit the seller for a test ride. The best bike in the world fails to be so if you can’t ride it comfortably.

Ask about the history of the bike, and ask to see receipts. If you suspect a bike to be stolen, the honourable thing to do is to walk away. Bike thieves are a certain special kind of scum. Their customers are not much better.

5. Getting the right size is the most important thing of all
Use this three-step guide to getting the right size:

i) Goolie clearance – first check you can stand over the bike with room to spare. You’ll need a few inches for off-roading, If it’s too close for comfort, try a smaller size.

ii) Seat height – Next, adjust the seat to the correct height (see 6). If you can’t get it high enough without exposing the ‘Max insert’ mark on the seatpost, try a larger size.

ii) Reach – arguably the most important thing to check. When you’ve sorted the seat height and you’re sat on the bike in riding position, do you feel comfortable? Does your weight feel nicely balanced between your hands and your bum? If you feel too huddled, try a larger size. If you feel too stretched, try a smaller size. But bear in mind, if you’re checking out a sportier bike than you’re used to, a bit of stretch might be part of the bike’s design. Go for a test ride to settle in.

The main rule of bike sizing: Ignore the nominal size classifications the manufacturers use. On one brand of bike, you may measure up as a 19”, as opposed to their alternatives of 17” or 21”. On another make, you may feel comfortable with an 18”. Some bikes have abandoned this way of sizing in favour of the S,M,L,XL system. Whatever bike you’re looking at, size up each different model from scratch, assuming that one marque’s idea of a ‘Large’ or a ‘17”’ is very different to another’s. It invariably is.

6. Correct seat height might be higher than you think.
Forget what you learned at school all those years ago about being able to touch the floor with both feet. If you use this as a guide to seat height, you’ll be nursing very sore thighs and bulging knees after a couple of miles. For most riding, the best seat position is one where, with the pedal at its lowest position and your heel on the pedal, you have the very tiniest amount of bend on your knee – virtually straight. If you feel more confident with the saddle an inch or two lower, especially off-road, then that’s fine, but you will lose some pedalling comfort. You should never ride with the seat too high – if you’re rocking your hips or you can feel your legs stretching to reach, lower your saddle immediately.

7. Handlebar height – Don’t worry, be happy.
Your handlebar height is rarely very adjustable. But that’s OK – it doesn’t need to be. If you’re feeling strange about the fact that you can’t lift your bars to a height that matches your saddle, then don’t be alarmed – it’s quite normal for your bars to be lower than your seat. A proportion of your weight should be borne by your hands – not just your saddle. Don’t think of handlebars merely as some kind of steering accessory.

8. Test Ride, every time.
Don’t ever consider buying a bike without a test ride. Whether you’re going for new or secondhand, you can never tell if a bike is right just buy sitting astride it. Any decent shop (or reasonable secondhand seller) will accept some kind of security (credit card, cash sum or small child) as deposit while you go for a spin. When you test ride, try to pick a route with climbs, descents and corners that will give you a reasonable impression of the bike’s fit and comfort. If it ain’t comfy, don’t buy it.

9. You don’t need suspension.
Suspension is fairly new on the scene. Just a few short years ago, it was seen as an expensive novelty. Don’t assume that just because your riding may take you over a few bumps, suspension is vital. Most decent mountain bikes costing anything over a couple of hundred quid will have front suspension. This is no bad thing, and helps to make the ride smoother and more comfortable. But unless you’re spending an amount approaching £1000, I would think twice before you opt for rear (or ‘full’) suspension. On sophisticated bikes, rear suspension is great. On cheaper models, it’s a heavy waste of money that detracts from the quality of the rest of the bike.

10. Helmets are optional, but recommended.
It’s not compulsory to wear a helmet. If the idea of wearing a helmet is putting you off riding a bike, then fine – get a bike, ride helmet-less and enjoy yourself. But think about it. A helmet costs £25. And it gives you an 80% better chance of surviving a head impact. I wear one, and I’d recommend all my friends to do the same. And if you’re going to wear one, take a few minutes to adjust the straps for a proper fit. There’s nothing quite as useless as a helmet perched on the back of your head with the straps swinging down like a hammock.

11. Don’t fear the gears.
Most bikes these days will have between 14 and 27 gears. But it’s not the quantity that counts – it’s how you use them. Don’t assume that the higher the gear, the faster you will go. Get used to spinning your legs in nice fast even circles – each revolution taking much less than a second. Then adjust the gears to suit your legs – not the other way round. If you’re pedalling with a discernable left-right-left-right feeling, or you can feel yourself rocking from side to side, you’re very likely to be in the wrong gear – change down and be kind to your knees! If your bike has gear shifters on both sides of the handlebars, and you find yourself confused, then go easy on yourself. Leave the left-hand shifter in ‘2’ and do all your changing with your right hand, with continuous pedalling that eases for a stroke or so after each shift to allow the gears a chance to change.

12. Use your balls.
Pedal using the balls of your feet: the widest part. Try not to pedal with your heels or the centre of your feet. If you’re wearing high heels and you find that the pedals naturally seem to fit at the back of your foot, then don’t wear high heels.

13. Women’s bikes.
Historically, manufacturers who offer ‘women’s bikes’ have been supplying traditionally-shaped frames with dropped crossbars – handy for riding wearing a dress or long skirt. Like you do.

Serious female cyclists would avoid these anachronisms in favour of a standard, or ‘gents’ model. But things have changed. Most of the major bike brands now offer women’s bikes that look at first glance like regular machines. The difference is in the detail. These bikes will typically be shorter, to accommodate smaller arms. They’ll often include other details like smaller brake levers, shorter cranks, women’s saddles and softer suspension. Check them out – they’re often worth a look. But don’t assume that a women’s model will necessarily fit you just because you’re female. Test ride standard bikes alongside these women’s versions and go with whichever feels most comfortable. Try not to be swayed by the pink flowery designs that often decorate these girlie bikes.

14. Disc brakes - Good or gimmicky?
As with suspension, disc brakes are a feature which has made mountain biking more comfortable for many people. Discs are more powerful than other braking options, which means you’ll need less effort to achieve the same braking effect, so no more tired fingers after long descents. Other benefits include longer maintenance-free running time between services, an easier ride home following a wheel-wobble-inducing incident, and more life from your wheel rims, as discs don’t grind away at your wheels like conventional brakes do.
But, just like suspension, all these benefits come at a price. Cheap bikes with disc brakes will often be sporting the worst examples of this technology, with more weight, poorer durability and worse performance than rim brakes on an equivalently priced bike. If you’re looking at a disc-equipped bike for less than around £500, check out the V-braked equivalents. You could be in for a surprise.

So there we go. My 14 commandments. Can anyone think of anything I've missed?

It’s Early May and History is Repeating Itself

2008-05-07T08:50:00.001Z

Since 1999, the first weekend in May has always been the cue for a kind of nervous excitement for me. During the years I worked overseas for Neilson, this time of year was generally the time when, after several weeks of preparation, our first customers of the summer would arrive and we would swap our hammers and paintbrushes for uniforms, clipboards and big grins as we began our real task of biking, windsurfing and sailing with our guests.

My last summer season overseas was in 2002, but since then, working in the Neilson office, I’ve still been party to the genuine excitement of the annual Official Start of Summer.

This year is different. Time for a change. For nearly nine years I worked for Neilson as a mountain bike guide, as a centre manager, as a product executive and latterly as their online editor. But I decided to move on.

It would be the most enormous understatement to say I will look back on my Neilson years with fondness. My first summer, in 1999, fresh from a Liverpool bike shop, was a magical experience. I simply couldn’t believe that I was being paid to live in the Turkish sunshine introducing people to mountain biking and taking them on pleasant rides along breezy coastlines and pine forests. The customers were great – my colleagues were even better.

Gundogan 1999 was followed by Finikounda 2000. Fini, as anyone who’s been will confirm, is the most magical Greek village. The Fini team of 2000 became a bunch of friends who, I think, showed the customers as good a time as they were having themselves. Some of my friends from summer 2000 remain my closest pals today, and I suspect they always will be.

A brief taste of ski chalet hosting in the winter helped to prepare me for my first summer as a manager – in the legendary mountains of Chamonix in the French Alps. Accompanied by a pair of accomplished chalet hosts, we welcomed people for weeks of mountain biking and other fun in one of the most amazing locations I have ever spent time.

Then followed a winter in the Caribbean on the island of Grenada, as a bike guide once more. I’ll never forget Christmas Day 2001: a ride through the rainforest villages before a relaxed lunch on a golden beach with blue surf rolling in.

Then in 2002 I returned to Finikounda, this time as centre manager. A few new challenges, but the same laid-back Fini, same great biking and the same kind of up-for-it guests that made this work such a pleasure.

Even after I began my five year stint in Neilson’s Brighton office, early May would still bring a rush of excitement as colleagues in the Mediterranean would open their doors for the summer.
But this year, for the first time in nearly a decade, I’m no longer seeing May from a Neilson viewpoint. I’m now working for CTC – a cycling organisation. And my first task is to oversee the setting up of a cycling project for the disabled. I feels good to be working once again with people and with bikes.

So, on the first Monday in May, I find myself, after weeks of preparation, excitedly opening up a shed full of bikes, pulling on a brand new uniform shirt and cycling with beginners in a sunny forest. Just like I was nine years ago.

And as I write this, I know another beautiful day is beginning on a wonderful beach somewhere in southern Greece…

Blame it on the Twitter

2008-03-25T20:10:00.009Z

I’m about to do what I never thought I would do.

I have been an infrequent blogger over the last couple of years, writing irregularly and infrequently, sometimes for work and sometimes for fun. I have always harboured a dislike for blog posts which begin “Oh my dear readers, I am so so sorry for not having written more recently, but I’ve been so busy, etc. etc.” Who cares? If you have something to say, then say it. If you don’t, well fine – there really is no need apologise. There is plenty of other stuff out there to read.

But with several weeks since I last enjoyed the selfish buzz of expanding some thought or other on my blog, I have found a need to look at why I’ve not been writing as much recently. And I haven’t had to look very far.

The culprit? Twitter.

If you’ve not seen it or played with it, Twitter is one of the best toys on the internet, largely down to its sheer simplicity. In summary, imagine a text message, or a similar 140 character outburst, in response to the question “What are you doing?” Your answer, via web or text, gets distributed to anyone who has decided to ‘follow’ you. Correspondingly, you receive, through your gadget of choice, a series of so-called ‘tweets’ - the thoughts of your friends as a string of short messages scrolling through your awareness.

'Microblogging' is one term that's been coined to describe what Twitter does. 'Ambient intimacy' were the words used by one of my friends to more accurately describe Twitter’s gift to the internet. With so many grown-up tasks occupying a day, it’s comforting to be exposed to the ups, downs and emotions of others you know. “Sitting on the beach watching seagulls”, “In need of a cup of tea and a coconut macaroon”, “Off to a meeting to learn more about a new project” or simply “Having a bad day” all represent the stuff of tweets.

When you’re feeling unmotivated, it can be great to receive a humorous tweet from someone having a better day. And when you’re on top form, it’s nice to share that with others, through the simple investment of 30 seconds of thumb-time.

Pre-Twitter, each time I had a thought, it would linger in my mind for a day or two before either fading away or providing the seed for a blog post. Now, I have no reason to wait – I just grab my phone and in the time it takes me to produce a text message, that thought is on the internet. It is on the screens of my followers, it is on sidebar of my blog and it is even fed directly into the status update on my wretched Facebook account. The current feed-based nature of the web helps content to spread quicker than ever before in a very focused way. This is both a strength and a weakness of my current fondness for Twitter. Great as it is for thoughts to just fly from one’s conciousness onto the internet, I sometimes wonder if something gets lost in the haste to tweet. Would an idea, more thoughtfully considered, become a more informed bit of writing if allowed to grow? Equally, would it be consigned to the bin where it may arguably belong?

To get the very best out of Twitter, you need the right equipment, set up the right way. That’s not to say it’s difficult to do, however. When I first dipped my toe into the world of Twitter, I was strictly a web-based tweeter. A look every so often at my Twitter homepage would show the thoughts and emotions of everyone on my list.

But taking the simple step of setting up Twitter on my phone has really started to show me what this is all about. As I grumpily wait for a train, I receive a tweet from someone recommending a new pub or reveling in a new recipe. Moreover, tweets often contain links to recommended places on the internet. This is where the benefits come in having a current web-enabled phone rather than the antique rubber Nokia with which I struggle along (to be fair, I am long overdue a phone upgrade, but I am equally put off by the dual prospects of either half an hour haggling with a call centre or being talked at in the flesh by an 18 year old with an excessively wide tie and a glut of product in his hair). My next phone will enable me to fully engage with this fun, following links and joining in as quickly as this stuff flows around the web.

So who uses Twitter? Well, as a newcomer myself, I can’t pretend to give an accurate picture, but I think it’s fair to say that it is largely the toy of those working in marketing, web stuff and ‘new media’ (I still dislike that term...). A quick look through my short list of followees reveals that I was drawn into this gentle addiction by a bunch focused largely around Brighton’s web marketing scene, chiefly at Nixon McInnes, an agency with whom I worked during my time as Neilson’s webmonkey.

I feel slightly as if I have gatecrashed a party. A party where everyone is discussing films, food, hangovers and other banter alongside their favourite database languages and jokes about obsolete code. But geeky though it may be, this is a party attended by warm, amusing folks who are very welcoming to an outsider such as me.

It’s nice to be party to the thoughts of this genuinely entertaining crowd, but if I’m honest, I wish Twitter would pick up a little more with the rest of the world; the rest of my world, at least. It would be great to trade moments of wisdom with fellow mountain bikers, to knock about ideas for a night out with my usual bunch of drinking buddies, or to keep up-to-date with the thoughts and work of the amateur photographers I have got to know through Flickr. To be fair, many of these folks must be using Twitter – maybe I just need to do a better job of finding them. Or persuading them.

Look at Facebook. A year or so ago this was a niche site with a word-of-mouth appeal. Then word got around and it’s now ubiquitous – some would say regrettably so. The genius of Twitter is that it is simpler, more adaptable and less of a chore to engage with. In fact, since I linked my Twitter account to my Facebook profile, I rarely bother to sign on to Facebook, happy in the knowledge that friends can follow my rambling momentary thoughts without me having to dodge the flying hordes of custard pies, vampires and other detritus which litter the site.

So there is my confession of the new love in my life – Twitter. But I realize that for all the benefits of this instant banter tool, I miss the enjoyment of knocking around a thought with a little more consideration, a little more editing and a little more time. So I'm back on the blog. After all, why say in 140 characters what you can say in 6,594?

Double 700C and Tonic

2008-01-09T07:48:00.000Z

Just before Christmas, I found myself joining the staff of a bike shop for a Christmas night out. We started in a pub before moving on to a Chinese restaurant.

Early in the evening, the boss returned from the bar with a substantial round of drinks, and we started discussing the considerable mark-up placed on drinks by the licensed trade.

Later in the night, we somehow got onto the subject of how we could hardly judge - seeing bike shops have their own equivalent profit-maker: inner tubes.

Drinks.
Inner Tubes.

Hmmm.

What followed was a boozy conversation which, though it seemed like a good idea at the time, is admittedly one of the geekiest in which I have ever played an active part. For some reason that I can't explain, it seemed a natural process to find an appropriate drink to match each of the inner tubes for sale in a bike shop.

I present below our reasoned findings, transcribed from the paper napkin upon which they were noted. Make of them what you will.

Inner Tube	Drink
700 x 38C Schraeder	White Wine
700 x 35C Presta	Real Ale
20 x 2 Schraeder	Vodka Red Bull
700 x 21C Presta	Mineral Water
27 x 1 3/8 Tubular	Red Wine
26 x 2 Schraeder	Carling
26 x 2 Presta	Becks
20 x 1 3/8 Schraeder	Vodka and Tonic
16 x 1 3/8 Schraeder	Tanqueray Gin and Tonic
29 x 2.2 Presta	Single Malt Whisky
700C Cyclocross Tubular	Sloe Gin
24 x 2.5 Schraeder	Strongbow Cider
26 x 3 Schraeder	Stella Artois Lager

Cycling Meets Agriculture Down on the Allotment

2008-01-07T20:35:00.000Z

A couple of days after Christmas Mel and I found ourselves in the beautiful city of Bath. We spent a lazy day wandering round shopping, drinking coffee and taking in the atmosphere. I was keen to see the beautiful Royal Crescent, so on our way back to the car park we detoured through Victoria Park before we chanced upon a sizable area of allotments, where Bath's keen smallholders were cultivating their fruit and veg.

Melody loves her allotment, and the idea of snooping around other people's always excites her, so we climbed over the gate and began nosing around the cabbages and leeks. We were about to leave the allotments and resume our search for the car, when I spotted what looked like a bike, but with its front end attached to some kind of archaic mechanism.

This bike had been adapted into a pedal-powered sieve, presumably to rid the local soil of stones and lumps. A chain lead forward from the pedals and was connected to a large mesh drum, which was then intended to rotate, shaking the soil contents so that fine earth falls through and rocks are retained. It was sadly not functional, else I would certainly have hopped aboard and taken it for a cheeky spin.

I've always known that bikes have the ability to solve many of the world's problems. But I never knew that lumpy soil was one of them.

First Ride-By Shouting of 2008

2008-01-02T10:39:00.000Z

So there we were.

About half-past midnight no New Year's Eve and Mel and I are riding merrily along Brighton's seafront cyclepath.

Given the time and date, it is no surprise to see dozens of pedestrians wobbling about in the cycle lane. Understandable given the whiff of booze in the air.

So we ride along, happily honk-honking (Mel) and ting-a-linging (me) to clear a path through the merry-makers. We're greeted with countless cheery waves and new year wishes as folks get out of our way.

Until one bloke turns around and shouts "What are you doing? This isn't fucking Amsterdam!" We smile and wave back. There may even have been a bonus honk from Mel.

But he was serious: "This isn't fucking Amsterdam!". What could we say? It wasn't.

But it did smell a little like it.

Anthony McCall, Serpentine Gallery

2007-12-19T07:27:00.000Z

We were strolling through Hyde Park, hoping it wouldn't start to rain before we we reached Exhibition Road.

As we neared the centre of the park, the light drizzle started to increase in intensity and we looked for somewhere to take shelter. The Serpentine Gallery looked closed, but we we headed for its doors anyway, in the hope that we could find hide from the rain in its doorway.

Despite its appearance, the gallery was in fact open, so we stepped inside to see what was on display.

I had never before seen the work of Anthony McCall. The main focus of this show is a selection of works with titles like Long Film for Four Projectors 1974 and Line Describing a Cone 1973. These pieces are essentially darkened smoke-filled rooms, with projectors throwing ever-changing sheets of light through each gallery. The resulting three-dimensional works of art fill the room, inviting you to play with them and interact with them.

It's hard to describe how much fun this is. You walk through the rooms, disrupting the beams of light and changing the way the 'objects' appear to other viewers. One of the shapes evolves into a perfectly enclosed cone, so before it disappears, you excitedly insert your head into the cone's interior, to see it from the inside. Suddenly a chink appears in the tube of light as the head of a passing child intercepts the bottom of the beam.

Gradually, the shape changes and becomes two parallel sheets of light. You use limbs and digits to poke holes in the sheets, and watch your body cutting enormous shadows into any part of the object further from the light source than yourself.

Anthony McCall's work is showing at The Serpentine Gallery until 3rd of February. If you're passing anywhere near Hyde Park, I'd certainly recommend calling for a play.

So much fun.

Is Television the New Meat?

2007-12-17T21:52:00.000Z

I've not eaten meat deliberately for around 14 years. (There was that chain of accidental events back in Finikounda, but that's another story...).When I first went veggie, I became used to the curiosity of those around me: "But why not?" "Is is because of the animals?" and the classic "I bet you miss bacon."

I've grown used to all the questions over the years, but people don't seem to interrogate veggies like they used to. Their curiosity is no longer there. Being a vegetarian has become normal in our society. I am officially mainstream.

However, confess to people I don't have a television, and that's a different matter. They are fascinated. Or horrified. "What? Not at all? But how do you know what's going on? What do you do in the evening?" They are taken aback. Declining to watch television is seen as a puritanical self-denial of the most extreme kind.

Television is the new meat.

And what will be the new television? Driving licenses, I reckon.

Shell Wildlife Photographer of the Year 2007

2007-12-13T08:03:00.000Z

I love photography in many forms, but I've never really thought of myself as a fan of wildlife photos. Give me portraits, landscapes, sports, architecture. I've never had much time for the animals, I'm afraid.

But when Mel suggested a visit to the Natural History Museum's Shell Wildlife Photographer of the Year show, I agreed it could be worth a visit.

Wow. As someone who doesn't consider himself a fan of wildlife photos, I lost count of the amount of amazing images which blew me away. Staggering colours, amazing situations and some inspiring creatures.

It's so hard to decide on a favourite, but this shot of a bear by Sergey Gorshkov is one I will remember for a while.

The show was beautifully presented in the Jarwood Gallery of the Natural History Museum. Lightboxes were displayed around the perimeter, with winning shots shown large in enclosures in the centre of the gallery.

Also in the centre of the room were interactive displays reminiscent of Flickr's map functionality. We were able to browse the photos geographically, and were invited to email the photos to ourselves. Disappointingly, my choices have not yet appeared in my Gmail, but I don't mind when the Awards' website allows you to browse the finalists and leave comments.

It was plain to how the entrants were dominated by digital equipment, in particular the Canon 1D and other Canon cameras. Of the few photos shot on film, Fuji Velvia was the film of choice.

The show is on until 27 April. Go see.

Brick Lane and East is East

2007-12-10T01:17:00.000Z

Of the films I've watched recently have been a couple which address similar themes - those to do with the life of British Asians.

I bought Monica Ali's novel Brick Lane around a year ago, in the process of being snagged by a crafty bookseller's 3 for 2 promotion. The book has since sat on my bookshelf, as yet unread in a queue of similarly ignored, but no doubt worthwhile, literature. When Brick Lane recently opened in the cinema, I swallowed my guilt about the unread book and took my seat to watch this wonderful film. What a joy.

Carefully put together, the story seemed to bring together several themes - love, family, race, religion and London being the most evident. A young woman from Bangladesh marries a man unknown to her and moves to London, where she becomes part of east London's significant Bangladeshi community. Many of Brick Lane's observations are complex and worrying, but there are nuggets of joy and comedy which add a lot of depth to this lovely story.

I will certainly be dusting off that book.

Then, sorting through some DVDs the other day, I found myself in possession of another, very different, film addressing the lives of British Asians.

East is East is a cheeky comedy. Set exactly thirty years prior to the bulk of Brick Lane's narrative, it tells the story of a Pakistani man and his English wife who married in 1946 and brought up seven children. The Khan family, of Salford, have been testing out the reality of multiculturalism long before it became the norm for our cities. Throughout the film, we see the young Khans walking the tightrope between the expectations of their father and the realities of the English society in which they are growing up. In most cases, we see their challenges through the medium of comedy, but East is East is not afraid to show some upsetting, sometimes even violent scenes, especially when dealing with the father's attempts to maintain a traditional authority over his wife and children.

It was plain to see how, though different in many ways, these films were very similar in others. They may not share the same approach - Brick Lane was a touching drama while East is East borders on the slapstick, especially in its last few scenes - but they both have something to say about our country and the compromises faced by many of our citizens. Both films show that life is never simple.

Brick Lane and East is East. Very different. A little similar. Both good.

I Got Moo

2007-12-03T00:14:00.000Z

I've been a big fan of Flickr for a while. But I've not yet experimented with the commercial services and third party add-ons that tempt you from the page margins. Until now.

I did it. I ordered myself a pack of 100 MOO Minicards. It's hard to explain why they're so much fun - but they are. It seems they have a bit of a cult following, especially on Flickr.

So next time I see the Brighton Flickr lot, I won't feel left out when they start swapping MOO cards around the table.

Whizzkid Kingpin

2007-11-30T08:24:00.001Z

I've just seen news of the arrest, by New Zealand police, of a teenage hacker who is being questioned in connection with major online fraud.

In the article the police are reported to have alleged that the teenager is a "whizkid kingpin".

A whizzkid kingpin. Superb.

Firstly, can you ever imagine the British police describing someone in these terms?

But more interestingly, I would love to hear these words spoken in authoritative tones by a policemen with kiwi accent. How on earth would this phrase sound with those mutated kiwi vowels?

Whuzzkud kungpun.

I love it.

Attack of the Exclamaniacs!

2007-11-30T06:54:00.002Z

Hello!

I just thought I'd quickly write something! I hope you like it!

I'm not sure if you have noticed, as I have, that some folks, particularly work colleagues, love to use the exclamation mark!

All the time!

Sometimes they're doing it to add some humour and levity to an email!

And other times, they're doing to show some annoyance and add gravity to a serious point!

The trouble is, it's not always obvious which is which! So you end up with a perception of a manic, shouty voice, devoid of any real emotion! I find myself reading with my eyebrows permanently raised in anticipation of a punchline or outburst that never comes! Reading this stuff is hard work!

Of course, sometimes, the writer has genuine desire to resort to an exclamation mark for a particular statement, but with every sentence ending with one, they are faced with a problem! This problem is easily solved, just by using multiple exclamation marks!!!!! The more amused/angry the writer feels, the greater the quantity of exclamation marks added to the single default specimen, so they start multiplying!!!!!!!!!!!! It's a kind of quantitative exclamation mark!!!!

This issue has serious ramifications! On several occasions, emails from colleagues have had to be answered with a phone call, as exclamation marks were so prevalent, it was hard to tell whether one was dealing with anger or excitement! Or worse, a combination of the two!

In fact, a friend of mine is currently dealing with a solicitor! And this solicitor has become so aware of the perils of the liberally distributed exclamation mark that he has banned his staff from using them at all! So now, when they want to stress a particular point, or to assign importance to a particular sentence, they must do so through using an appropriate choice of words! Words, I tell you!

It's almost as if the exclamation mark has become the anti-biotic of the English language! It is used indiscriminately as a cure-all for whichever ailment of expression we face! Yet the more it is used, the less effective it becomes, until we find ourselves massively overdosing, ruining our health and feeling none of the intended benefit!

This isn't the worst of it, though. What technique do you notice when the growing hordes of exclamaniacs want to ask a question?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Hello St. Pancras - Where can I park my bike?

2007-11-14T22:47:00.000Z

Today, the new £800m St. Pancras International rail terminal welcomed its first Eurostar service. I had a quick look at the nearly finished station on Saturday. It looks great. A simple hi-tech glass structure extends the original trainshed structure accompanied by Gilbert Scott's glorious gothic front end to the station.

Looking around the new St. Pancras, it seemed that something was missing; that something wasn't right. I couldn't place it, but it seems the clever people at Camden Cyclists had identified what was missing: cycle racks. This enormous new rail terminal had been designed with how many cycle racks? Thirty. Just thirty cycle racks for what is supposed to be the main rail terminus of a world class city and Olympic host.

In addition, it has been pointed out that the surrounding road system does little to provide a safe environment for cyclists traveling to, from or around St. Pancras. Added to this the fact that Eurostar's cycle policy is far from practical and Camden Cyclists had identified several significant reasons why this supposed revolution for British transport is severely lacking when it comes to its provision for cycling as a means of transport.

So, I'm glad to hear that the Camden Cyclists protest today was a great success. Calling attention to these three issues, they managed to provoke a sudden increase in the number of cycle racks, and the promise of a change in Eurostar's cycle policy. Of course, the matter of improving the safety of the surrounding road infrastructure is a harder thing to change - more's the pity that it wasn't properly taken into account during the seven year construction of this immense and otherwise impressive engineering project.

howies and me

2007-11-12T19:02:00.000Z

I've made no secret of my admiration for clothing company howies in recent times.

I've never been one to comment on fashion, but I've always liked howies' open-minded ideas, their gorgeous catalogues, their friendly blog and their entertaining website. They really seem to have fun talking to their customers and sharing ideas with them.

Well, now I like howies a bit more.

And here are two reasons why:

Firstly, a few months ago they put out the shout for new T-shirt ideas. I emailed them an idea that was buzzing around in my head and I was fairly chuffed to be told that my suggestion had made it to become the winning T-shirt design. It's now designed, printed and available on their site - Seize the Day Off

Secondly, and even more excitingly, howies are letting me come to play with them for a couple of weeks. Two weeks in the draughty south-west of Wales to see what's it's like on the other side of the impressive public image. Hopefully I can offer them some writing, some ideas and some enthusiasm. And hopefully they can offer me some insight into how they manage to do what they do. Bring it on.

Protest Through Remembrance?

2007-11-12T08:27:00.000Z

Another November 11th has passed, and another Remembrance Sunday observed.

But things seemed a little different this year. For as long as I can remember, the number of people wearing poppies in early November has seemed to decline each year. Why? Well, memories of world wars become more distant and attitudes to conflict and nationhood have certainly changed as generations move on.

But this year, more poppies seemed on display, and on the lapels of a younger generation. I've been puzzled by this. What's changed all of a sudden?

Newspapers show their Remembrance Day front pages as always, but beneath the photos, they write less of the past and more of the present. They tell stories of the struggles that today's service personnel endure. They criticise our government for the wars they have taken us to, and the way they have equipped and treated their soldiers.

So were the poppies worn last week worn by a younger generation as much out of protest as out of remembrance? I think maybe they were.

Unfolding the Folder - The Nonsense of Southern Railways' Cycle Policy

2007-10-08T19:40:00.000Z

This bike is pictured aboard the 18.19 train from Brighton to London Victoria. Trains travelling between the two cities at this time, and for six key hours every weekday, are subject to Southern Railways' cycle policy, which outlaws all bikes other than folders, like this Brompton.

Southern explain this policy as their way of trying to lessen inconvenience for non-cycling passengers, and presumably to accommodate more passengers on each train. This rule is enforced despite the fact that every fourth carriage on each train has dedicated space for two bikes, arranged with a layout which sacrifices none of the seating provided for passengers. For six hours every working day, these spaces are left empty. The only bikes permitted onboard are folding bikes, ranging from flexible, wobbly £200 efforts to more viable, reliable machines costing in excess of £500.

So, Southern tell us: Two wheels bad. Two wheels plus hinge good.

Time for a small experiment.

My employer has just acquired a Brompton for us to use as a company vehicle. A great idea and just the ticket for meetings in London or in Peterborough, home of our parent company. As a folding bike, it can be legally carried on all Southern trains, regardless of the time of day. But what if I took this bike on a train without folding it? What if I didn't fold the folder? Is a folder only seen as a folder when it's folded? Would it create some kind of inconvenience to my fellow passengers in its assembled stature? Would a guard (sorry - Revenue Protection Officer) ask me to collapse the bike into its folded form? Would I be thrown from the train as a two-wheeled trouble-maker?

Of course not. I wheeled the bike through the ticket barriers and parked it in one of the dedicated bike spaces where it remained for the rest of my journey. No-one was inconvenienced and no-one was denied any travelling comfort by the presence of my fully assembled bike.

Which begs the obvious question: If this bike was allowed onto the train in its full-sized, fully assembled state, why are regular, non-folding bikes forbidden? Bikes like the Brompton are great, but they are expensive, they handle strangely and they lack many benefits of regular full-sized bikes. To ban bikes from trains in the crude broad-brushed way favoured by Southern calls into question any attempt to acheive affordable 'integrated transport' as part of the relationship between the sibling cities of London and Brighton.

Some commuters previously mixing their modes of transport have given up and reverted to their cars. Others have tried the approach of locking up their bikes at railway stations, to the glee of bike thieves who are thriving in this new era.

When Southern first began to enforce their cycle policy, there were protests, petitions and news coverage. Maybe it's time to revisit this issue, before Southern begin to believe that this way of working is anything other than a terrible idea.

howies Autumn Catalogue

2007-10-03T08:02:00.000Z

I've just been looking at the autumn catalogue from howies, the undeniably cool clothing company. Well worth a look. I'm not sure if it's just come out, or if it's been available for a few weeks, but it's the first time I've seen this one.

Even if, like me, you don't really like clothes shopping and fashion is a big turn-off, the four-times-yearly howies catalogue is a wealth of beautiful photography, thoughtful writing and fun ideas. I can't afford to buy much of their clothing, but that doesn't stop me from appreciating their catalogues.

There's a paper version on its way, but I'm just flicking through the PDF. This season's theme seems to be howies' local river, the Teifi, and other associated wateryness - rivers, streams, oceans, pollution and stuff like that. Good stuff. Get one.

La La La - I Can't Hear You! (Updated)

2007-09-26T22:45:00.001Z

Okay, it's confession time: My name is Clive and I listen to my iPod while I ride my bike.

I'm sorry.

I've lost count of the number of friends whose faces have suddenly turned to looks of horror at the unexpected sight of me simultaneously wearing bike helmet and earphones.

Don't get me wrong - I'm a good guy. Before you start wagging your finger at a delinquent cyclist, I stop at red lights, I wear a helmet, I even have a bell. But I like a little music on my way to work. Is that really so wrong? Bikes and music are two sensory experiences I really appreciate, so enjoying both at once is a great way to start the day.

Yet this simple pleasure earns stern disapproval from concerned individuals - most of whom will express this concern from behind the wheels of their cars. "Oh you really shouldn't do that!" they say. "You won't hear the big lorries!"

What? Have you thought this through?

If I ride sensibly, and the traffic on the road drives likewise, the odds are that my progress will be unhindered by incident. And if I, or my fellow road users, make any stupid manoeuvres, I am at risk. Will someone please explain to me how this situation changes as soon as I pop a pair of headphones in my ears? Listening to music does not suddenly cause cyclists to swerve erratically from side to side as they ride. So why am I more at risk with a spot of music in my ears?

A while ago, a senior police officer was heard in the media to warn cyclists against the perils of riding a-la-MP3, following the tragic death of a cyclist who disappeared beneath the wheels of a lorry. Of course, it was her own fault - she was listening to her iPod at the time. The lorry (or its driver) must have been unavoidably drawn towards the device, for reasons I can't quite fathom. How awful.

If someone was stabbed to death while reading a book in the park, would police chiefs be lining up to warn of the connection between literature and knife crime? Would the assiallant likely have left their victim alone if they weren't engrossed in a Dan Brown on a park bench? Would the attacker get away with a reduced sentence in light of the circumstances? "The so-called victim is to blame m'lud, for he was reading a book when he died."

If you're really concerned about the safety of cyclists, don't nag me about my iPod. Put down your mobile, turn down the Phil Collins, slow down and give me some space. That will enhance my odds of survival far more effectively than forcing me to ride to work without my favourite tunes.

UPDATE 03/10/07

Okay, it seems this post provoked a reaction from some of my friends (I guess the friends I mentioned earlier). I have had a few emails, comments and Facebookings arguing the other side of the argument. Which is right and good, because, frankly, I was being a bit one-sided when I wrote the above.

So let me straighten it out a little: I do acknowledge that part of safe cycling in cities is about adapting to the behaviour of others. And I acknowledge also that without high sensory awareness, I cannot be aware of all this behaviour. I should make it clear that the vast majority of my commute, luckily for me, takes place on cyclepaths or very quiet roads with low traffic levels. There is one short portion of my daily ride which does offer more danger, and at which the iPod gets switched off and the headphones are removed from ears to dangle from my helmet straps. Anyone who knows Brighton knows how dangerous is the Palace Pier roundabout for cyclists.

So what was I on about in my original post? I suppose what I object to is not so much the fact that anyone should question the wisdom of riding with music; more the assumption that a cyclist is actually in some way to blame for any accident that befalls them while listening to their tunes. Switching off the music may, in some situations, put them in a better position to react to situations created by others, yes. But to suggest that other road users can use a cyclist's iPod as an excuse for their own dangerous driving (as virtually suggested by the aforementioned Australian policeman) is blatantly ridiculous.

So let's set the record straight:

Cyclists - Remember that your sensory awareness may be hampered by music, so listen wisely, if at all.
Motorists/Police/Journalists - Stop pointing fingers at cyclists' MP3 players or helmets. There is no substitute for good driving which avoids dangerous situations and the onus upon cyclists' defensive behaviour.

London Underground

2007-09-03T07:03:00.000Z

Looks like there's a tube strike going ahead- BBC News

I'm not amazingly well-versed on the politics, rights or wrongs of the current situation. In fact, I don't even live in London.

But it's a great excuse to listen once again to 'London Underground' by Adam Kay and Suman Biswas.

Probably one to be careful with at work...

Knocked Up

2007-09-01T11:54:00.000Z

All comedies are not the same, are they? Lots of films make you laugh but they do so in different ways. Some use toilet humour and crude Farrelly brothers slapstick, while others employ more sophisticated observations and characterisations to provoke our chuckles. And others star Hugh Grant.

The good news about Knocked Up is that the humour comes from so many different angles you can quite happily go along with friends from either school of humour appreciation.

The basic 'Boy meets girl, girl gets pregnant' premise of the film, the mismatching of the two lead characters and the ensuing gags are largely as predictable as suggested by the proficiently edited trailer.

But a range of secondary characters with their own nuances, situations and jokes mean there is still something to laugh at long after the knob gags have worn thin.

While Ben and Allison pursue their elusive goal of happy togetherness, we observe the quirks and problems of the relationship between Allison's sister Debbie and her brother-in-law Pete. The ideal of a happy stable married relationship is actually exposed as being just as difficult and unstable as the struggle of the two main characters to form a healthy environment for the birth of their forthcoming baby.

Okay, this is hardly a comedy masterpiece and probably shouldn't be considered for any awards. But if you're trying hard to gauge the suitability of a comedy for a mixed group of friends, you could do far worse that going to see Knocked Up. And there's no sign of Hugh Grant.

Happy Birthday Rebecca

2007-08-02T17:26:00.000Z

Two or three years ago, I made a birthday card for my friend Rebecca. She's a bit of a fan of South Park, so I went to one those websites that lets you build a South Park character and constructed Rebecca in South Park style, then printed it off and used it as the basis for a birthday card. I think (I hope) she was quite chuffed.

Tomorrow is Rebecca's birthday once more, so keeping topical, I thought I might replicate the idea on the back of the current Simpsons hooplah. So off I go to the Simpsons movie website.

However, after having made the necessary adjustments to gender, body shape, hair, skin tone, face and clothing, I am disappointed to see that the finished result looks nothing like my friend Rebecca!

How Messrs Groening and co. can let me down like this I do not know. I expected better of their animation skills.

But for what it's worth, if you've never met my friend Rebecca, then rest assured, she looks absolutely nothing like this:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECS!
Sorry I can't make it to the party.

What Not to Watch In Flight

2007-07-30T06:04:00.000Z

I've just got back from my long-anticipated biking trip to Canada.

I had an amazing time. But I'm still sifting through memories, notes and photos before I can write anything about it that makes sense.

While I'm composing my excitable thoughts, I will just take a moment to pass on my views on a trivial yet hard-to-avoid part of many holiday experiences. One of the first, and last, ingredients in the holiday - The dire mix of films shown during flights.

On my way to and from Vancouver from Heathrow, I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing five films, varying in quality from average to unbelievably bad. Here are my tips:

Shooter - A classic example of the 'So bad it's good' phenomenon. Action thriller with Mark Wahlberg and Danny Glover. Glover is a crooked FBI chief and Wahlberg is a retired military sniper, wronged by the army and living in peaceful retirement. You can probably guess the rest. In fact, to revel in the predictability of the cheesy nonsense, draw up a game of 'Thriller Bingo". Place bets with a friend on the likelihood of phrases and situations that are bound to crop up. The smart money is placed on the prediction of phrases like "You're on your own now, son", "This goes all the way to the top" and "They say you're the best. Are you as good as they say?". And, without wanting to spoil any surprises, who thinks the dog is going to end up with a bullet in the head?

Frequency - Dennis Quaid is a sixties fireman in an intriguing time-travel-related drama. I couldn't believe that this film is seven years old, so easily did it slip past my awareness thusfar. It begins slowly, then gathers pace and becomes fairly sophisticated, before descending into one of the most ludicrous endings a film has ever had. Enough to really spoil an otherwise passable movie. Try and watch the ending without collapsing into fits of laughter.

Music and Lyrics - It's a Hugh Grant rom-com, so we all know how the story goes. Foppish Grant repeatedly makes fool of himself with eccentric feisty female - Drew Barrymore this time. Hugely predictable yet, to be fair, enjoyable.

Wild Hogs - Awful. Awful awful awful awful awful. There is a huge gulf between the ideas of 'So bad, it's good' and 'So bad that everyone involved should be ashamed'. The main offenders in this terrible film are Martin Lawrence, William H. Macy, John Travolta and Tim Allen. Four middle-aged men embark on a motorcycle road-trip in an attempt to reclaim their youth. If that sounds bad, I can assure you this is much much worse than you can imagine. Jokes revolve around comedy crashes, gay policemen, plastic bags of excrement and hen-pecked husbands. Lawrence has a history of terrible films - this is home turf for him. Allen and Travolta should be embarrassed by their involvement, but the real shame rests on the shoulders of William H. Macy. An actor who has been part of great films like Fargo and Boogie Nights should have run a mile from this stinker.

The Time Traveller - To be honest, I fell asleep before half an hour of this film had passed, but I hope it improved after I started snoring and dribbling into my in-flight meal. Guy Pierce was introduced as an eccentric professor with odd social habits and a penchant for time travel calculations. Listening to his English accent is nearly as odd as listening to Mark Addy's American accent. I quickly grew weary of this contrived set-up and abandoned myself to sleep. By the look of the Wikipedia plot summary, I made the correct choice.

Birthday - Binary, Bikes and Beer

2007-06-30T12:55:00.000Z

Friday 29th June 2007 was my 32nd birthday. (When bored the previous evening, it occurred to me that if you were into binary, this would actually be my 100000th. Luckily, I'm not into binary...)

A dreary rainy day at work was followed by a beautiful evening. The clouds parted, the sun broke through and the South Downs beckoned Si, Jim and me up towards Devil's Dyke, along to Truleigh Hill, down to Southwick and back to Brighton with roaring tailwind.

I've been playing with Google Maps a little - Here's the route we took

Ended up at the Robin Hood pub by Brighton's Norfolk Square. I've only recently discovered this place. A friendly kind of pub with decent beer, excellent post-ride pizza and some fantastic photography on the walls. Apparently, all the pub's profits go to charity. The three of us sat among Friday night revellers in our sweaty biking gear and were joined by Nic for a few happy pints.

A great birthday evening - a few miles on the hills followed by beers with some of my favourite people.

Exif Strategy

2007-06-26T08:30:00.000Z

If you're a bit of a geek, one of the wonders of digital photography isn't just held within the image itself, but in the hidden information which attaches itself to the file and makes its way onto your hard drive along with your photos.

The Exif data held within each file can tell you loads - The type of camera, the date, the shutter speed, aperture and ISO setting are only the beginning.

And this can be useful stuff. Users on sites like Flickr often show the Exif data alongside their photos. Which aperture setting got that amazing depth-of-field? What time of day gave that terrific light? Is that a new camera? EXIF data will tell you.

But is all this information enough? It's already a tempting option, on Flickr and elsewhere, to plot a photo's location on a map, adding further to the wealth of available data. But this must be done manually and can be a laborious process - too much so for many Flickr users.

And even with the addition of geographical data I'm still not sure this is quite enough to reconcile some photos with the unique moments they capture.

So I propose three new data fields to be populated by our cameras. I would ask major camera manufacturers to take heed and consider these suggestions:

1. Location - I can't remember where I was when I took that biking photo. Don't ask me to remember several days later - do it for me. Add the geographical co-ordinates to each of my photos as I take them by using a GPS within my camera.

2. Music - What a night! What a nightclub! What dancing! What on earth were we listening to?
I have no idea. But build an extra gizmo into my camera which listens to the tune being played as I press my shutter release, looks it up on the internet, and then embeds this information as EXIF data. Dexy's Midnight Runners? Oh dear...

3. Alcohol - Why is that photo so blurred? Why is the subject's head truncated? Why have I taken 34 photos of the same thing? Am I an adventurous artist or just a drunken buffoon? An in-built breathalyser just beneath the viewfinder will easily allow me to look back at an image with a greater understanding of why I appear to be lying in the floor. "1/60 shutter, f4.5 aperture, 400 ISO and 5 pints of lager: I'm evidently a creative genius!"

If You Love Your Language Set it Free...

2007-06-26T07:30:00.000Z

In the face of the ever-increasing global dominance of English, the French are known for their determined loyalty to their language.

But despite what some would have you believe, they are able to have a laugh with it too.

These adverts for the french railways' travel website voyages-sncf.com should be read with your best french accent. Which international locations are being advertised with slogan "Luckily, we don't just do trains"?

National Bike Week Comes to Brighton

2007-06-18T12:40:00.000Z

National Bike Week began for me this morning at around 4.45am, in the English Channel.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving in Newhaven. Enjoy your stay in England."

On our way back from a two day road jolly in Normandy, Tom, Kieron, Saul and I clattered down to the car deck of the ferry to retrieve our bikes and cover the final 17km of our 200km journey - the short ride from Newhaven back to Brighton.

All weekend, we had been contentedly sharing immaculately surfaced roads with French motorists, appreciating their wide, careful overtaking, their patience at junctions and the sensation of being able to stop at traffic lights without the feeling that the car behind you is attempting to climb into your back pocket.

After two days of blissful French cycling and fitful night's waterborne sleep, we rolled off the ferry back onto rainy British roads, resigned to the fact that, back on home turf, we could no longer expect motorists to notice us or respect us as equal road users. We span home along the coast in the rain with cars and trucks passing us at speed.

I returned to Brighton, snatched an hour's sleep, and then packed my stuff for work, swapped my road bike bike for the usual commuter and set off on my 15 minute ride to work, the sun now shining. Within a minute of leaving the house I was flagged down by a cheerful lady in colourfully branded T-shirt.

She reminded me that, as the first day of National Bike Week, today was the day that Brighton & Hove Council were laying on free breakfasts for cyclists. I was ushered towards a nearby café. Not only was I given a flapjack, some fruit and a cup of tea, but a spare bike light and, bizarrely, some Body Shop foot lotion also made it into my courier bag, courtesy of the council. A lively jazz band was playing while free of charge bike maintenance checks were carried out.

I met Dean Spears, Brighton council's cycling mastermind, who told me about the new Journey On website and assured me that our local authority is doing all it can to encourage and enable cycling, as the best mode of transport for our crowded city. Facilities for cyclists in Brighton are relatively good, but they could surely be much much better, so I hope his mission is succesful.

Some of the best documenters of the inconsistencies of British cycle facilities is Brightonian Fred Pipes, whose superb Weird Cycle Lanes blog today points out a straightforward Guardian piece by Emily Thornberry MP, picking apart some of the oft-quoted objections to cycle commuting.

As a cyclist, particularly a commuter, it is easy, so easy, to focus on the negative. Inconsiderate driving, poor roads and the commonly-held perception that cycling is solely for eccentrics can make a British cyclist defensive, perhaps too much so. Events like Critical Mass do wonders for awareness of the power imbalance on British roads, but a lot of their energy lies in the implied confrontation between the needs of the cyclist and the needs of the motorist.

The great thing about this morning's breakfast event, with its music, good food and warm welcome was that it focussed on the positive and it made me smile. It made other cyclists smile, passers by smile and, I hope, motorists smile. Cycling shouldn't be about making a stand and being different. It should be about feeling able to choose a mode of transport which, for most people, offers so many benefits; not least of which is the valuable chance to arrive at work on a Monday morning with a smile on your face.

Return to Liverpool - Part 3 - On The Road

2007-05-25T13:06:00.000Z

The third day of my visit to Liverpool saw me boarding a train beneath the Mersey to Bebington, to meet Ian.

Ian Tierney was my boss for the two-and-a-half years I spent working at the Liverpool Cycle Centre. He was brought up working with bikes and he taught me most of what I know about cycling. He now runs Cycling Projects, a Manchester-based charity.

We see each other about twice a year, and whenever we meet up we try and find a few spare hours for a bike ride. This is normally off-road, as Ian acknowledges that's always been my riding of choice, so he climbs aboard his mountain bike and humours me for a couple of hours.

But Ian's heart lies in the tarmac. He has fun on off-road, but he's happiest when zipping along on big skinny wheels and drop bars. So imagine the excitement when I arrived on Merseyside accompanied by my new road bike - my first road bike. I arrived at Ian's house with my shiny new Specialized and found him grinning from ear to ear. Not because he was pleased to see me, but pleased to see me "on a proper bike, for once!"

So we set off through the twisting country lanes of Wirral, as Ian guided me and my new bike through a labyrinth of villages and meadows. Our first stop was my inaugural visit to 'Two Mills' café, known to every roadie in the northwest as the definitive place to enjoy a cup of tea and compare handlebars.

Then we made our way to Raby, a village so picturesque you'd be forgiven for thinking you were in rural France, not the suburbs of Liverpool. We enjoyed a couple of pints in the sunshine and reflected on a decade of friendship, ten years of riding together, and the ten years it had taken me to get myself a bike that Ian approved of. It was a great afternoon.

But next time, let's get back on the mountain bikes, eh Ian?

Return to Liverpool - Part 2 - A Dingy, Smelly, Slippy Place

2007-05-24T13:28:00.000Z

My visits to Liverpool are infrequent these days. After having lived there for five-and-a-half years, I like to visit once a year or so, to catch up with the great friends I left behind.

On this occasion, my visit co-incided with that of Rebecca and Simon, who'd crossed from Brussels for the weekend, also to revisit Liverpool friends and memories.

It became a foregone conclusion that a visit to The Raz would figure on the weekend's agenda. I only made a few visits during the years I lived in Liverpool, but they were memorable. The Raz is formally known as The Blue Angel (though it takes a leap of faith to consider any variant of the word 'formal' in the context of this place). The grottiest, cheesiest of venues with the nastiest cheapest beer and the worst, most ineffectual ventilation had always made The Raz an aquired taste, but this time, things seemed a little different...

The first clue was the smell. The smell in the street. As we climbed out of our taxi and eagerly made our way to the The Blue Angel's front door, our nostrils collectively caught a whiff of something quite revolting. We assumed it was a drain or a binbag and moved closer to the venue. And the smell grew stronger. And stronger. Until we were in the queue at the front door facing the grim realisation that the smell was coming from within The Blue Angel. As a real sign of the times, a bold notice, not there ten years ago, was displayed at the entrance:

"YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A DINGY, SMELLY, SLIPPY PLACE.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED."

We had indeed.

We entered the foul smelling venue and headed downstairs to the cave-like dancefloor. The smell of stale sweat and vomit grew ever more intense, with the only escape being offered by a visit to the toilet to enjoy the fresh air.

In a previous life, our fellow patrons were more of our own. Students, ex-student hangers-on and university sports teams, all in their early twenties, we would boogie away our cares in youthful abandon. Now, ten years later, we were probably the oldest people there.

Music was a mix of recent tunes and the old classics we used to dance to. Our favourites were seen by most Raz-goers as 'oldies' but we danced along together all the same, drinking merrily from plastic glasses - cheap lager for the boys, and an anonymous flourescent blue alcopop for the girls.

Two o'clock came round too soon, and we made our way back to Glyn and Jamie's flat to catch up on some sleep. We woke the following morning to the funny feeling that something had followed us home. Something smelly. A revolting grey substance identified by Rebecca as 'boogie poo' had smeared itself onto our clothes and was living all over our shoes and trousers. Windows were opened, shoes were placed on window ledges and last night's trousers were plunged into washbasins as we wondered when we'd next make our excitable return to the horrible, horrible Raz.

I took a few photos, but Simon and Rebecca have some great pictures.

Return to Liverpool - Part 1 - Platform 4

2007-05-18T09:02:00.000Z

If boarding an Olympic flight at Heathrow, the Greek accents, illegible safety signs and stewardesses' make-up tell you straight away that though you maybe sat on west London tarmac, culturally, your journey to Greece is to a large extent complete.

And so it was that I found myself on platform 4 at London's Euston station, surveying a long red Liverpool-bound Virgin train, looking for the best place to stow my bulky bike bag.

I asked one of the train's uncomfortably dressed 'hosts' for help and the answer came back in a soft scouse accent that immediately reminded me of my destination for the weekend.

"Go right to the end of the train, just behind the driver, and there's somewhere there" she pointed out in distinct Merseyside tones.

"Great. Thanks." I said as I began hauling my heavy cargo to the other end of the long platform."

The friendly scouse voice continued over my shoulder. "What's in the bag?".

I looked back.

"A bike"

"Have I seen you before with that bike? I'm sure I've seen you before."

"I'm not sure."

"No, I'm definate I've seen you on this train before with that bag."

There was no way she'd ever seen me before, but her friendly insistence and lack of London aloofness was unmistakable.

There I was in central London suddenly feeling like I'd arrived Liverpool. I boarded the train and the Ringo Starr intonations of Gerry, our 'catering manager for this jair-ney', confirmed that this train, with an apparently Liverpool-based crew, had already brought me to my former northwestern home, before the train had even left London.

Flying to Work

2007-05-11T07:37:00.000Z

Brighton's getting a lot of weather at the moment. After a few balmy weeks, the wind and the rain is back with a vengeance.

Yesterday I rode home along the seafront with a howling wind in my face. As I struggled to make headway on my tired old singlespeed, I wished the wind would let up for me. Then I spotted a couple of guys on road bikes coming in the opposite direction along Madeira Drive. They were going three times faster than me, with the wind behind them and big smiles on their faces.

I told myself that the ride to work the next day would make it all worthwhile. And it was. With the wind behind me I flew along the seafront as fast as my little legs could go to keep up.

New howies Catalogue is Here!

2007-05-11T07:28:00.000Z

The new howies catalogue landed on my doormat yesterday. It's always good when this colourful little book arrives, four times a year.

howies are a clothing company, but the catalogue is more than just a selection of pretty people in good clothes. Interspersed between the jeans, T-shirts and hoodies are a collection of essays, thoughts, letters and stunning photos. Lots of stuff to make you think and make you smile.

It's always worth a read. Their blog's good, too.

Barenaked Ladies - Brighton, 5th April 2007

2007-04-10T13:00:00.000Z

Watching the Barenaked Ladies at Brighton Dome on Thursday was possibly the most fun I've had in front of a live band.

I can't remember the exact set list; a combination of excitement, ignorance and a touch of alcohol puts that a little out of reach. But I recall rolling in from the bar as they were getting stuck into The Old Apartment to wild applause. They then took us through a healthy collection of great tunes. Pinch Me, The King of Bedside Manor, Intermittently and Some Fantastic stick in my memory, along with some songs new to me, like Sound of Your Voice, which will probably see me adding more BNL to my iTunes over coming days.

They spoke entertainingly of their brief time in Brighton. Ed and Steven made it clear that share Brightonians' mixed feeling of wonder and distaste when they survey our seaside delights - particularly our tacky pier with its eyebrow-raising rides - "Like the ones at Disneyworld but with all the fun stuff removed" observed Ed. A rap followed, describing the way that Ed endulged in Palace Pier's 'Super Booster' ride while Steven let his doubts get the better of him. (As it turns out, Steven's anxiety was well-founded)

I first heard the Barenaked Ladies on the radio some time around 1992. If I Had $100000 instantly grabbed by attention. Music that was warm, affectionate and fun without being sloppy or obvious. That appeal, and of course, the implausible name, stuck in my head and I duly went out and bought Gordon, the BNL's first proper album. I liked Gordon so much I bought the next album, Maybe You Should Drive. Then, for some reason, I forgot about them.

Several years later, a friend tried to re-awaken my interest in the Barenaked Ladies and sent me a mini-disc compilation of their best stuff to date. Living at the time in a rural greek village with a limited selection of music, I'd say it did the trick for those few months. And last Thursday night, when I heard songs like Some Fantastic for the first time in around four years, I was taken right back to an echoey marble-floored room in Greece, where the Barenaked Ladies were delivered to me through a tiny Sony minidisc player and a pair of miniature speakers.

These days, the Barenaked Ladies are very much into technology and the internet. Their website is awash with videos, downloads, fan links and general nonsense. Steven has a fairly entertaining blog. On Thursday they were even offering for sale USB sticks containing the music of the whole concert, just as soon as they'd played the final chord. I'm waiting for Thursday's gig to appear on their download site so I can relive the fun of the other night.

Oh and Meg, thanks for that minidisc.

My other photos of the concert

Vehicle Watch - "25"

2007-04-05T06:49:00.000Z

There seem to be more and more of these stickers appearing in car windows. They are based on a simple premise: that most car theft is perpetrated by those under the age of 25. With this in mind, anyone over that age may place a distinctive '25' sticker in their window in the hope that the police will stop the car if if appears to have a young driver at the wheel, deducing it to be stolen.

It's hard to object to the simple logical approach of this scheme, and I hope it's playing its part in reducing car theft and associated dangerous driving.

But something doesn't feel right.

What are we being told? Car thieves are young people, right? So young people are car thieves? Are we taking too much refuge in the idea that we know best the kind of people likely cause trouble?

How long before we place other stickers on our clothes, houses and handbags? Why stop at age? Why not produce stickers that specify gender, skin colour or accent?

I'm not about to object to anything that makes our roads safer, but I do wonder if these stickers say a lot about our assumptions about young people.

Not to mention our assumption that under-25-year-olds are incapable of removing window stickers...

Nike Cycling: Not Doing It Anymore

2007-04-03T16:38:00.000Z

It looks like Nike's relationship with the sport of cycling may be coming to an end. BikeBiz have announced the end of Nike's tie-up with Trek, the largest bike company in the US, with whom they market their cycling clothing and shoes. Nike say that this does not necessarily mark the end of their involvement with the sport, but with all but handful of Nike Cycling employees laid off, it's not looking promising.

Over recent years, Nike has had a refreshing presence in a market more used to traditional European brands. Their sponsorship of Lance Armstrong has been a powerful force in cycling marketing. When, in 1996, Armstrong was diagnosed with cancer he was released from his professional contract with Cofidis. With a life-threatening illness and no medical insurance, Armstrong's sponsors at Nike, along with Oakley and Giro, agreed to cover all his medical expenses.

The man who looked like his life would soon be over not only survived, but went on to win the Tour de France an unprecedented seven consecutive times, capturing the world's imagination with his survival story. It seems that Nike's investment paid off. Many times over.

But now, following his retirement in 2005, Lance Armstrong's status as a sports personality is fading away. And with him goes Nike's unique hold on cycling.

Nike Cycling was Lance Armstrong. The whole brand was built on one man. Now his career is over, maybe Nike have realised that their presence within the world of cycling needs to be drastically scaled down. Or even ended.

Still, it was a partnership which worked well. Check out this advert - one of several Nike made with Armstrong. Truly inspirational and beautifully put together. It would take the most cynical cyclist not to feel any emotion during the following one minute and 33 seconds.

Click here to see a larger version

Thanks to Andy for reminding me of this great advert. You know I'm going to have to buy that road bike now, don't you?

Spring Forward

2007-03-26T22:46:00.000Z

The clocks have gone forward an hour.
British Summer Time is upon us.

Simon was very excited about this, so he, Frazer and I rode on the first of 2007's 'extended' evenings.

The following morning, as I washed my bike outside my house, carefully removing two layers of South Downs filth and one of south Wales, a small boy and his mother made their way along the pavement where a pool of mud was forming around me.

The lady ushered her young son past me, avoiding the mess.

"He's been playing in the mud!" said the little boy.

"Yes" replied Mum.

"Can I play in the mud?"

Am I leading the next generation astray? I do hope so.

A Plea to my Cycling Friends

2007-03-25T11:14:00.000Z

I like riding bikes.
I like taking photos.
And above all, I love spending time with my friends.

When all three come together, and I find myself photographing friends on bikes, I'm rarely happier.

But, I need to issue a plea to all my bicycle-riding chums:

I'm glad that the reflective details on your bikes and clothing make you safer at night, but it buggers up any photograph I try and take with a flash.

So please, next time I'm riding with you in the evening or at night, and you see me reach for my camera, do the decent thing, get out your screwdrivers and scissors and remove all the reflectors, armbands, stickers and clothing from you and your bicycle. Or get out of shot so I can get a picture without blinding white sparks burning out of the picture.

It will keep my Trash folder much emptier and will increase the odds of seeing yourself scooting along on Flickr.

Newspaper Snobbery

2007-03-24T20:00:00.000Z

My name is Clive and I am a newspaper snob. There you go - I've said it.

Anyone who knows me knows my thoughts on the tabloid press. I can't help but feel that the views espoused in titles like the Daily Mail and the Express have a harmful impact on public attitudes. That may sound incredibly condescending (I suppose it is), but the moral posturing and conservative panic of these rags leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

If you bump into me in the newsagent, I'm likely to have The Guardian or The Independent tucked under my arm. If you sneak a look at my RSS reader, you'll see a similar picture. I find the politics and attitudes of these two news sources broadly reflect my own (isn't that the main reason anyone chooses the news provider they do?).

But the front page Wednesday's Independent made me think. To celebrate the 50th birthday of the European Union, the entire front page had been given over to '50 Reasons to Love the EU'. The 'in-your-face' single issue front page has become a trademark of The Independent over recent years, and this was a bold example.

While there were some good points ("Once-poor countries, such as Ireland, Greece and Portugal, are prospering"; "Free medical help for tourists"), many of the 'reasons' were rather tenuous and the facts behind some of their claims a little vague ("Britons now feel a lot less insular"; "British restaurants now much more cosmopolitan").

Some were even contradictory: "Europe is helping to save the planet with regulatory cuts in CO2"; "Europe's single market has brought cheap flights to the masses". No secret had been made of the Independent's enthusiatically pro-european stance. The Indy do as much as admit this with their final point: "Lists like this drive the Eurosceptics mad".

Though I agreed with the majority of the points being made on the front page, I found the approach a bit too close to the opinionated pieces I find myself sneering at in other papers. I wasn't reading anything that challenged me - just my existing views simplified into a tabloid approach.

So I suppose what I like and dislike in a newspaper (or news website) is a combination of two questions: Do I sympathise which the political outlook? And do I appreciate the manner and subtlety with which those views are put across?

Looking at both questions, the likes of the Sun, Mail and Express go straight in the bin, failing instantly on both counts. Papers like the Telegraph and the Times, while seeing some issues from a slightly different perspective to me, are undeniably readable, while the Independent, as we've seen here, manages to take views I share and present them in an increasingly irritating style.

So where does that leave me? With the Guardian, I suppose.

Stow Me The Money!

2007-03-17T09:04:00.000Z

howies are a Wales-based clothing company making some very nice stuff aimed at bikers/skaters/paddlers/dreamers who have a few quid in their back pockets. Their approach is very much about having fun and doing the right thing. Their website and catalogues are thought-provoking, entertaining and well worth a read, even if you can't afford their pricey clothes.

They're planning to produce a wallet. If it's anything like their clothes it will be made by hand from sustainable, organic something-or-other, extremely high quality, with a correspondingly significant price tag.

Seems like they want to make this new product right, so they're canvassing public opinion, through their blog.

So here, through my blog, are my replies to their questions:

howies: Who are you?
me: I'm Clive

howies: How old are you?
me: I'm 31 and three quarters

howies: What sports are you into?
me: Mountain biking. I try other stuff now and then, but never very convincingly. In fact, my mountain biking can be pretty unconvincing...

howies: Why do you like howies clothing?
me: Because I just managed to pick up a couple of very nice items in the Brighton sample sale. Plus I like reading the catalogue and the blog. They make me smile.

howies: What kind of wallet do you have or what do you use as a wallet?
me: It's a worn-out, knackered, broken RNLI promotional wallet made from neoprene and a kind of metallic mesh fabric.

howies: Why did you choose that one?
me: It was gift from my parents - big RNLI fans.

howies: What do you love about it?
me: It contains the means to buy beer for me and my friends.. And it's been moulded to the shape of my right buttock by its constant presence in my right back pocket.

howies: What would you change?
me: I would prefer it without the broken zip or the threadbare holes which dispense the contents into my pockets and/or the floor. It has to be tough if it's going to survive. Especially the zipped pocket for change. Zips always break.

howies: What do you keep in your wallet?
me: Not enough money. Too much other crap. Have a look here.

howies: Do you always take it with you?
me: Mostly, yes. I feel naked without it. Sometimes, I try to be clever and just go biking with a credit card wrapped in a tenner, but after the ride it's invariably a week or so before I reunite the card with the wallet, so I'm buggered at the supermarket checkout.

howies: What other stuff do you want to get off your chest?
me: It would be nice if there was no leather in the new wallet. Some of us don't like to buy the stuff, so would be good to see a 100% animal-free solution.

Bring on the Spring

2007-03-15T12:37:00.000Z

The arrival of spring, and then summer, has always meant a lot to me, but I've been thinking about it lots recently. Living by the sea it's somehow easier to appreciate the passing of the seasons. Harsh winters of crashing waves and icy cold have to give way, sooner or later, to warm sunshine and long summer evenings.

And so, here we are. At that exciting time of year when summer is easing its way back into our lives. The last five months, mild as this winter has been, have held a routine of chilly mornings, constantly charging bike lights and warm evenings huddled in smoky pubs. (I do notice that the winter doesn't fill me with the same gloom it used to - maybe I'm becoming fonder of the cosy pubs as I grow older...). Next we must re-learn our summer lifestyles; five months of winter is just long enough to forget the simple pleasures of evening beach barbecues and strolling around in shorts and t-shirts. Spring provides us with a chance to remind ourselves how we like to live when the sun shines.

Of course, the passing of the seasons has always been important to us as a society, especially in the days when the production of our food was dependent on it. That's why festivals and celebrations have always marked their passage. From the elaborate festivities of the major religions to the simpler observances of druids and the like, we have always cared about the seasons, however we choose to explain them.

Personally, I like join a group of friends around the time of each equinox (spring and autumn) for our own little tradition:
- our Low Tide Bike Ride.

So when does spring really start? Depends who you ask. The vernal equinox (when the Earth is literally mid-way between its summer and winter positions) is reckoned by astronomers to be the real start of spring. Other folks will wait until our clocks go forward before they recognise the arrival of the new season. Other, more old-fashioned, souls are apparently intent on listening for cuckoos...

But I feel able to announce my own list of signs that winter has passed and spring is ushering in the new summer:

The first time I am woken in the morning by the persuasive light from my window, rather than the nagging bleep of an alarm
The first time I realise, having woken, that going for a quick ride/run/swim might be a really nice thing to to, rather than an eccentric act of winter bravery
The first time I can leave work without having to switch on the bike lights
The first time I notice myself sat on Brighton beach in the early evening, with groups of beer-supping friends scattered around the stony beach and the occasional hint of cannabis smoke carried by the sea breeze
The first time I find myself getting cross with the amount of rubbish left on the beach each night
The first time I notice with admiration how quickly Brighton's litter pickers restore the beach each morning
The first weekend evening I ride home past enormous traffic jams clogging every road out of Brighton, as Londoners return from their sunny day by the sea

Seeing as I have ticked off all seven of the above, I am utterly convinced that spring is now upon us. Next stop summer.

Now, where did I put that barbecue?

Keep It Simple, Stupid!

2007-03-12T08:55:00.001Z

I've just spent the last few weeks trying to re-establish a wireless connection in the flat in which I live. We recently changed broadband providers and the migration from our old set-up to our new one has been less than smooth. Much less.

My competence with computers falls into the category of "enough knowledge to be dangerous". Like weekend fettlers who disassemble the carburettor of their Ford Sierra only to call in the AA on a Monday morning. Or DIY plumbers who proudly finish their new bathroom before receiving agitated reports of leakage from the downstairs neighbours.

If you ask me to fiddle with my network settings, I'll naîvely wade into my Mac's System Preferences and start fiddling with IP addresses, DNS servers, TCP/IP, PPPoE, MTUs and the like. I just wish I understood it all. Or do I? This is no fun. This is not what computers are for.

For a non-techie like me, it's like entering a bizarre world. It looks like OSX, but gone is the logical simplicity of files, folders, buttons and sliders which usually makes using a Mac so idiot-proof. (On a Windows machine, of course, I'd be patronised beyond belief. "Do you want a 'Wizard^TM' to help you set up 'My Computer^TM' with one of 'My Special Network Places^TM'?")

It seems that Apple, smart as ever, already know that things should be easier, so I read with interest that they are working on a cunning plan. I don't fully understand the technical details, but the story on the MacRumors site suggests that plans are afoot to use RFID technology to help networking products exchange basic information with each other, enabling them to then automate the rest of the process. RFID is the whole business of little tags whose embedded information can be simply read by a nearby device. The kind of thing that's currently used to automate regular payments on toll bridges, or to identify stray pets and bicycles to police and thereby reunite them with their owners.

I don't understand the technical intricacies of this RFID idea any further. But that's the whole point - I don't want to!

Imagine if your computer, partner's computer, router, printer and everything else just introduced themselves, Bluetooth style, to each other so you didn't have to worry about IP addresses, manual, DHCP or otherwise. I want setting up my computer and that of my housemate to be as simple as downloading pictures from my camera, deleting some music, or adding to this blog.

Let Apple handle the questions of how that stuff actually works. That's their job - I have better things to do.

Off-Road Utopia

2007-02-22T21:19:00.000Z

Last weekend was one of our several-times-a-year mountain biking trips. The first significant trip of 2007.

The destination for this springtime adventure? South Wales. The purpose-built, manufactured trails of Brechfa and Glyncorrwg, near Port Talbot.

A superb weekend. Largely thanks to the chance to spend time playing with good friends. But a significant part of last weekend's smiles were due to the frankly wonderful trails we rode. Superb. Distracting, winding climbs followed by flattering playful singletrack. Si and Sam roar on ahead while I endeavour to keep up with Sally as we follow at our own pace. But everyone reaches the bottom with a smile on their face. A huge smile.

Wales and Scotland are now rich with these 'trail centres' - off-road networks in rural forests where mountain bikers have right of way and every curve, berm and obstacle has been developed with the goal of pleasing the British mountain biker. A well-stocked bike shop and better-stocked cafe are strategically positioned at each trailhead to capitalise on two of the key spending tendencies of the species Mountanica Bicyclus Britannicus.

It's a kind of off-road Utopia. But is everything as perfect as it seems?

We drove for several hours to reach our destination for the weekend. We could have ridden locally on the South Downs. We tell our friends smugly how we do our bit for the environment by taking to two wheels, then whenever we get the chance we drive (or fly) hundreds (or thousands) of miles to endulge our hobby.

These artificial trails may offer superb riding, but sometimes one wonders if they are perhaps a little too perfect. As every corner leads to another stretch of lovely singletrack, gone is the hit-and miss trial-and-error approach of 'natural' mountain biking in Britain's rural areas. Gone are the playful squabbles and guesswork involved in plotting an entertaining route along traditional bridleways and 'cheeky' singletrack. Jo Burt has written more about this in Singletrack magazine (I'll add a link to the exact article if I can find it).

When you separate mountain bikers from the rest of the outdoor enthusiasts of the British Isles by giving them their own playgrounds, you wonder if we're forgetting how to share the open spaces we love. It's great being able to hare around each corner with no concern for the possibility of the absent-minded dog-walker or red-socked rambler, but in the long term, are we doing ourselves any favours by ghettoising ourselves into designated ear-marked mountain biking zones? If the idea gathers momentum that mountain bikers belong primarily in these trail centres, do we start to forego our acceptance on the regular byways and bridleways of the land?

Don't misunderstand me; I had a brilliant weekend. But it does make me wonder about the future of British mountain biking if we focus all our passion of these centres.

But they are so much fun! And that is what it's all about.

Roll on Canada...

Meanwhile, here are my photos from the weekend.

Better Than Any Screensaver

2007-02-05T18:44:00.000Z

Every night as the sun goes down, the starlings of Brighton's West Pier do their amazing evening dance around the hulk of the burnt-out structure. They've been there for as long as anyone can remember. After the fire in 2003 they took a while to come back, but return they did. And now they guard the ruins of this once beautiful building.

They fly in tight formation every night, swooping and diving in their hundreds, possibly thousands. Their fluid mass bends and distorts seemingly at random, but with an amazing unity and power. Occasionally the flock gets separated, as the split second synchronisation breaks down for a few moments. Before long, the two clusters re-join and the temporary rebellion is absorbed back into the flock.

Each bird is an individual creature which controls its own flight. Yet the instinct to fly as a flock is overwhelming and this nightly spectacle is the captivating result. It's always different, yet always the same. you can watch it for ages. Better than any screensaver.

After watching the birds for what seemed like an eternity on Sunday evening, I turned around to see dozens of my own kind all standing in unison on Brighton beach, all gazing out to sea as one.

Then I climbed back on my bike and weaved my way home through the hundreds of cars queueing to get out of Brighton for their migration back to London after the sunny weekend.

Flying Away

2007-02-05T13:47:00.000Z

8.22am on a Sunday morning. Each one of these vapour trails is a plane. And each plane holds a few hundred people leaving Gatwick and heading south-east for mainland Europe or beyond.

Thousands of people. Thousands of far-away adventures beginning in the sky above Brighton on a chilly February morning.

We know that we need to reduce air travel, for the sake of our planet. But is the answer really to tax the poor out of being able to travel, so foreign experiences become the preserve of the wealthy once again?

Let's get more into travelling by other means, so we can all keep having adventures.

Critical Mass

2007-01-31T19:09:00.001Z

Last Friday I found myself in London at Critical Mass, the monthly bike ride and display of urban cycling solidarity that has been around for well over a decade in cities across the world.

The simple philosophy is to celebrate, once a month, the freedom and fun of cycling without the fear that usually accompanies urban riding. In practice, this means a couple of hours where the cars of a city have to submit to the relaxed pace of a group of cyclists as the tables are turned on a habitually difficult relationship.

Critical Mass has no leaders and no set route. It is not an organised protest in the purest sense, but a gathering of cyclists who all happen to be riding the same way, in no particular hurry. This essential anarchy is at once makes Critical Mass such a beautiful, yet such a problematic thing. Not everyone who takes part is there for the same reasons as each other, which makes it hard to know whether a given Critical Mass will feel like a relaxed evening with friends or a tense experience under the eyes of the police, ever present at most cities' Critical Mass rides.

Predictably, there are delays for motorised traffic. On a good day, these delays are brief and everyone gets to where they are going. Smiles and waves are traded between cyclists, pedestrians and sometimes even motorists.

On a bad day, when the flow and 'buzz' of Critical Mass isn't working as well as it should, there is aggression, frayed tempers and legal problems. It's a shame, as this should be a celebration of positivity, not a chance for cyclists to alienate other road users.

January 2007's London CM was not the best in terms of atmosphere and interaction between riders, police and public. After a couple of hours, I no longer felt the ride was positive, so I rode off towards Stoke Newington where I knew Kate had a pint waiting for me.

But for the first hour or so after the mass of bikes set off from its customary meeting point at the National Theatre, it was a joy to be back in London on two wheels - not easy now that Southern Trains are enforcing their restrictive policy towards carriage of bikes.

The highlight of the evening was, without a doubt, the most amazing sound system I have ever seen on a Critical Mass ride. On Critical Mass it is usual to see a couple of speakers and a small amplifier lashed to a shopping bike, providing music to help create the ride's all-important sense of fun.

Occasionally, an enthusiast pushes the boat out, with a professional sound set-up mounted on a trailer or load carrier.

But Friday's ride was accompanied by the amazing sound of three load-carrying bikes, connected wirelessly, sharing seven speakers and a 3m towable 'sound cannon', filling the streets with music.

These brief videos give only a suggestion of the amazing atmosphere created by this impressive use of technology.

Links:
Critical Mass on Wikipedia
Critical Mass on Flickr
Critical Mass in London
Critical Mass in Brighton
AV2Hire - The guys behind the superb mobile sound system.

Howies vs. We-We

2007-01-30T19:41:00.001Z

I'm fairly new to marketing. I've been to only a couple of seminars and read only a few of the myriad websites, blogs and magazine articles that rush before my eyes. There are a hell of a lot of words out there...

A lot of it makes a lot of sense. A lot of it is common sense dressed up in fancy words.

And some of it is bullshit posing as common sense, hoping that no-one sees through the disguise.

I went to a seminar about email marketing. There were many buzzwords. Lots of jargon. Each time the guy running the show came out with one of his killer points, most of his audience nodded appreciatively.

At one point he mentioned the We-We Test. Everyone nodded. "Never ever talk about yourself when emailing a customer!" proclaimed the marketing guru. "Customers hate it. You must always tell them about how their needs and their lives will be improved by your product. Go through your marketing copy and count the number of times you say 'we'. Then reduce it as much as you can." He didn't need to insist; everyone accepted this as an unquestionable truth.

One of the strongest brands I know is howies, the clothing company based in south Wales. They do a superb job of marketing their (not inexpensive) products by selling the idea of themselves, their experiences and their culture. Their website is full of their thoughts and opinions. It's great.

howies' emails talk you like a friend, and tell you how excited they are about their designs. Their blog (they call it a community) is a constant babble of their people's daily ideas, jokes, trials and wisdom.

howies' copy hardly ever talks to 'you'. It is too busy talking about 'us'. What 'we' are thinking, how far 'we' have ridden our bikes and what music 'we' have been listening to.

A randomly picked page from their site is made up of an alarming 87.5% We-We, according to this online test. By the apparent accepted wisdom of the 'We-We Test', Howies are abject failures.

But they are a roaring success, expanding all the time and recently announcing a partnership with Timberland. And howies continue to command a hefty premium for their clothes. Partly because they are very good clothes, but largely because of the perceived fun and honesty of their brand and the intimacy we feel when we read about their surfing, dog-walking, tree-planting, cake-baking, t-shirt-designing lives.

I want to be part of their gang, so I will happily read about what they've been up to and what they've been thinking. That is far more exciting than boring little me.

But I still can't afford their jeans.

Still Waters Run Cold

2007-01-24T06:29:00.000Z

Yesterday was the coldest day of the winter so far in England. Northerly winds brought cool arctic air down to Europe. The unusual offshore wind in Brighton creates a beautiful peace and tranquility on the water. Which, on the coldest day of the year, made the act of entering the water an excruciating experience.

'Big wave' days may present their own swimming challenge, but at least there is no escaping the cold water as it jumps up at you like an enormous playful puppy.

On cold, still days, one must consciously lower oneself into the icy water, step by step, especially at low tide, when Brighton's beach remains shallow for a long way.

Pigeon-Proofing Our World

2007-01-22T18:57:00.000Z

Is it my imagination or has every building in urban Britain developed some kind of odd infection? A sort of rash, characterised by thousands and thousands of spikes covering every visible horizontal surface above head height?

In the love/hate relationship between the British pigeon (friend or vermin?) and the British public (friend or vermin?), these 'anti-roost spikes' are seen as the primary tool with which to spare our shopping malls of excessive avian poop.

Everywhere you look, the lines of any town centre building are serrated by these awkward-looking additions to the urban horizon. They look intrinsically uncomfortable, reminding you at every glance that they were glued there as an apologetic afterthought to the building's design.

The effect is particularly sad when seen on buildings in the 'High-Tech' style. An architect designs and builds a structure with neat, crisp industrial lines, then builders cover it with spikes so it looks like a bizarre enormous birthday cake covered in candles. Many, many candles.

You have to consider whether you'd prefer to tolerate the extra pigeon crap than these peculiar spikes breeding on every near-horizontal surface on every building. How about taking the cost of installing these spikes and putting it towards the salary of a guy with a shovel...

Other than that labour-intensive option, what can we do? There must be a better way. It's a long while since I was studying architecture but I hope that somewhere some building design experts are hard at work coming up with less visually offensive means of reducing the perceived tendency of pigeons to perch upon our buildings and shit on our heads.

The local council in Kingston-upon-Thames considered the employ of a marksman with which to dispatch pigeons and reduce their menace to the public. The resultant response in the public comments section of the Surrey Comet website article has to be one of the most humorous reads on the internet.

Of course, the best way to reduce the amount of pigeons occupying our towns is to stop feeding them. The litter and discarded food which gathers in every corner of our urban environment is what encourages our feathered rivals to compete for our living space. And, of course, we need to literally stop feeding them, as some eccentrics see fit to do. (Not only pigeons, but seagulls benefit from the generosity of certain Brighton eccentrics)

So until we change our habits, we are forced either to tolerate the hungry birds or get used to the ubiquitous spikes - surely a great way to make buildings look stupid, destroy intimacy and ruin high-tech architecture.

Brighton Goes Off

2007-01-18T09:39:00.000Z

A big day in Brighton.

Big weather, big waves. Not really a morning for swimming!

Here's a video of how things are looking from the roof of the Neilson office in Brighton Marina:

The shakiness of the picture is a clue as to the difficulty I encountered while trying to stand upright on the roof of a three-storey building in 50 knot winds.

The weather is just one item on the long list of things that make Brighton such a great place to be. When it's sunny, we get beautiful warm weather with beach barbecues and lazy bike rides on the South Downs. And when the storms come, the ferocious winds and enormous seas batter the seafront and remind us about the power of the elements. It's amazing.

Amazing, but damn hard to ride a bike in a straight line...

To see how Brighton is looking right now, have a look at the webcam and weather summary in my sidebar.

Semicolons

2007-01-12T12:16:00.000Z

"Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college."

Kurt Vonnegut, (1922 - )

Kurt Vonnegut is a wise man. I read one of his books a while ago, but I'd like to make the time for more of his words.

Sand In My Shoes

2007-01-11T19:01:00.000Z

A while ago I was at my parents' house clearing out some stuff I'd left at their place. I found a pair of shoes I'd forgotten I owned. The last time I wore these shoes was in 2000, during one of several seasons I spent working as a mountain bike guide in the Mediterranean.

As I took them out of the cupboard and inspected them for wearability, a stream of fine sand poured out of one of the shoes and onto the floor. It was sand from Finikounda, the beautiful Greek village which was my home for two magnificent summers a few years ago. As I looked at the sand, memories came flooding back. The people I met, the thousand of miles I rode, the days and evenings spent on the sandy beach. Amazing summers I'll never forget.

I brought the shoes home, with some more clothes and books that I'd retrieved from my parents' cupboards. And I started wearing them again.

In their second life, these shoes from my past have become part of my present, as I wear them for my seafront ride to work each morning. They used to spend their days sitting on a toolbox in a dusty bike shed in rural Greece. Now they spend office hours drying on the heated towel rail by the shower in our office.

Brighton's harsh winter weather has removed any trace of Finikounda. Mediterranean sand has been replaced with the salt of the English Channel.

Like a song from your past that you listen to too much, these shoes have now lost their association with Greek summers. They are now the shoes of the British winter.

I have more than shoes from that particular year in Greece. Some of friends I made that summer are now among my closest, six years later.

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on, forget you
But why would I want to
I know we said goodbye
Anything else would've been confused but
I wanna see you again

(I know Dido really isn't considered to be cool these days, but that doesn't stop this song making me smile when I hear it...)

Me at work one afternoon in 2000 - picture courtesy of Rick Meakin.

Buttocks or bust?

2007-01-09T19:29:00.001Z

Neil Cain, often known on the internet as Pimpmaster Jazz, seems to have been busy over the festive party season. Check out his inventive new game...
Buttocks or Bust?

Macworld - All you need to know...

2007-01-09T18:46:00.000Z

Steve Jobs.
How does he do it?

Once a year, he gets up on a stage in San Francisco, in his jeans and baggy grey roll-neck, and absorbs the adulation of the masses as he tells us what he and his busy workers at Apple have been dreaming up.

All over the world, millions of Mac fans pore over websites, eagerly monitoring his every revelation like disciples hanging on the words of a religious guru.

Here, courtesy of MacRumors.com, are the abridged (yet genuine) highlights from Steve Jobs' Macworld keynote presentation:

9:08 am - crowds cheer
9:14 am - Steve on stage
9:14 am - heavy applause
9:21 am - growth, now sell more than amazon - applause
9:22 am - applause
9:42 am - widescreen ipod
9:42 am - crowd goes wild
9:42 am - mobile phone
9:43 am - crowd goes wild again
9:43 am - shows comedy picture
9:43 am - crowd laughs
9:49 am - shows software
9:49 am - applause
9:59 am - it is very fast, just like on a laptop
9:59 am - applause
10:02 am - best ipod they ever made
10:02 am - applause
10:08 am - just touch to add callers
10:08 am - crowd is impressed
10:21 am - full screen view or preview mail
10:21 am - crowd impressed
10:27 am - presses a button and calls starbucks
10:27 am - orders 4000 latte's[sic] to go - crowd laughs
10:37 am - crowd begging steve for iphone

That's as far as it had got when I starting writing, but no doubt if I had continued watching, it would have gone something like:

10:41 am - Steve unveils another clever gadget
10:41 am - crowd goes wild again
10:45 am - demonstration of 'on' button
10:45 am - crowd goes absolutely mental
10:51 am - Steve cracks a joke about Windows
10:52 am - sound of manic laughter fills San Francisco
10:59 am - price of shiny gadget will be $199
10:59 am - widespread pandemonium in crowd
11:01 am - woman climbs onto stage bearing sick child, begging for laying on of Steve's hands
11:07 am - child cured
11:08 am - crowd fall to knees in adoration
11:09 am - the clouds part and Steve is raised into heaven...

What a guy...

Update -
Just saw this on the BBC News website's Macworld report:

"Outside the building, BBC News Online happened upon Steve Wozniak, the co-founder of Apple, who was leaving the keynote on his Segway transportation device. "

Superb.

The Myth of Pub Welsh

2007-01-08T08:27:00.000Z

A good friend of mine recently returned from a weekend in north west Wales. I asked him about his trip.

"It was fine" he said, "though of course the locals did the usual thing of switching to speaking Welsh whenever we walked in a pub".

It is amazing how many intelligent English people are of the belief that the Welsh only really bother to speak their own language in order to annoy eavesdropping Englishfolk. For a while, I too thought that there may be a shread of truth in this idea, until I was put straight by a native Welsh-speaking friend.

If two Welsh-speakers in a pub are chatting away, why on earth would they speak English? Just to give them the satisfaction of switching to Welsh when an Englishman walks in?

It's about as ludicrous as suggesting that those of us in Brighton, close to France, like to chat to each other routinely in French, only reverting to our native tongue in order to frustrate any Frenchman who dares walk into our local boozer.

Perfectly reasonable people genuinely believe that they have been the victims of this supposed Welsh conspiracy. They speak with absolute conviction of the linguistic switch being made in their presence at bars in Aberystwyth, Pwllelli and Capel Curig. I can rarely make out the conversations around me in English pubs, let alone Welsh ones. Then again, why would I try to?

I found an interstesting analysis of this on the BBC website, accompanied by some lively debate.

Filthy Pleasures

2007-01-06T19:41:00.000Z

Mountain biking in southern England in January is generally a muddy experience.

A couple of hours in Bedgebury Forest, Kent, leads to a bike covered in thick black gritty mud.

Thankfully, the visitors' centre has a freely available hosepipe.

One of the simple pleasures of mountain biking is the therapeutic process of transforming a filthy bike into a clean one.

Even better than that is the process of transforming a clean bike into a filthy one.

Welcome to Spamworld

2007-01-04T17:26:00.001Z

We all know about spam. We're all fed up with the constant deluge of crap in our inboxes. But recently, I seem to have passed a significant threshold. Over half the email messages I now get, on my work email, my Gmail and, of course, my ageing and increasingly Viagra-sodden Hotmail account, are now unsolicited crap.

For every email I receive from a friend or colleague I receive another one or two from random hijacked email accounts trying to sell me online dating, prescription medication, bodily enhancements, fake Rolex watches, ink cartridges and all manner of adult entertainment sites. And that's before we even mention the lottery notifications or the Nigerian regulars.

Spam is now reality

According to my inbox, there is now more spam than reality. How did that happen? Spam is now more real than real email. The real communications of my life are disappearing from view under a sea of spam.

I foresee the birth of new world, Second Life-style in which our 'real' existence is usurped by growing hordes of timeshare salesmen and share tipsters. Every street corner is a pharmacy and old men never see a reason to leave the bedroom, much to the bemusement of their wives.

All the women (and most of the men) are unbelievably well-endowed, yet have notoriously inaccurate wristwatches which give them nasty rashes.

Everyone is incredibly rich; some through Dutch lottery winnings and some through minding the funds of various African dignitaries killed in a spate of tragic air crashes.

And the girl next door?

What do you think? She wants me. Who wouldn't? After all, I am a man whose inkjet printer will never, ever run out of ink.

Reach for the Eurostars

2007-01-02T18:08:00.001Z

It amazes me the way that I can wake up in Rebecca and Simon's spare room in Brussels, then stroll down the road, hop on a train and step off in central London in the time it takes to read the paper and have a snooze.

Eurostar is so much better than flying. No need for two hour check-ins, stingy baggage allowances or travelling from town to airport at either end of your journey.

Plus, of course, the whole carbon emissions thing makes Eurostar look a far rosier option than its airborne cousins.

The only way to travel.

Unless you're going somewhere like South America.

Or the pub, for that matter.

I've used Eurostar for three trips now - twice to Brussels and once to Paris. I might consider it for my next jolly to the Alps - though being realistic, I hope it works out as a comparable cost to the airlines, or my conscience will have to grapple with the financial reality of it all...

Specialized have gone global...

2007-01-02T13:51:00.000Z

It looks like Specialized, one of the bike industry's leading players, has made an interesting decision about how it uses its distinctive branding.

Specialized are a big name in bikes and they're very proud of their brand. Most of their bikes have it splashed large on the downtube, as you'd expect from such a trusted marque.

But I was in for a surprise when I first saw one of their new 'Globe' hybrid models. The word 'Globe' has been treated almost as a brand in itself, and occupies prime position on the bike's shiny black downtube. The word 'Specialized cannot be seen, until you notice its decidedly understated presence on some components, and the 'S' logo on the forks and head tube. I didn't even realise this bike was a Specialized until the second time I saw it.

The 'Globe' range of bikes represents the kind of bikes Specialized are looking to sell to 'ordinary' customers - often customers who don't see themselves as experienced or expert cyclists.

Maybe they've realised that the very word 'Specialized', while commanding respect among those in the know, is a little off-putting to those looking for a regular bike to do a regular job.

"Would you like to buy this Specialized bicycle?"

"No thanks - I'm looking for an ordinary one..."

I suppose it's a little like the way that Neilson, the company I work for, has dropped its use of the strapline "The active holiday experts". Presenting yourself as "expert" or "specialised" is great until you realise that some customers are put off by that kind of language.

The interesting challenge for Specialized is that the guilty word in question is their own name.

Sea Swimming

2006-12-30T16:05:00.000Z

After tentatively dipping my toe in the cold English Channel, I have now taken the plunge and fully joined up with the 'Arch Section' of Brighton Swimming Club.

In December.

Cold?
Yes, it is.
It really is.

But it's a nice surprise to discover how much more there is to it than that.

For a start, there's the small matter of the sea. It's not just the temperature that makes the English Channel such an interesting opponent at this time of year. The sheer power of the waves is amazing, and has to be taken seriously.

Then there are the wonderful people. Our guides for this adventure are Brighton's collection of hardy sea-swimmers who meet every morning on Brighton's seafront at 7.00am. With years of swimming experience under their belts, they make superb and trusted companions, ever happy to offer advice on handling the day's conditions. Hyper-keen senses assess the size of the waves, the state of the tide and the wind's direction, deciding in a second how the sea should be approached.

Along with Nick and Tam, also recent converts, I am one of the youngest members of the club, at the tender age of 31. Most other members are in their 40s, 50s, 60s and even 70s. Since I joined I have been told of fond collective memories of a former club president who recently passed away at the age of 83, still an advocate of taking the waters of Brighton.

On mornings when the waves are big, concentration is required to ensure a safe entry into the waves. Speed is of the essence and the issue of the low temperature doesn't occur until you're safely way from the beach and treading water in the swell. After a few minutes of playing in waves, the time comes to plan your escape. Once again, the breaking waves don't favour the sluggish, so when a gap in the waves is chosen, quick progress up Brighton's stony beach is recommended. Only when the excitement of escape is over does it occur how painful the stones can be beneath icy cold feet.

Once back on dry land, we retreat into the Club's eccentric clubhouse, beneath the arches of Brighton's promenade. Conditions are basic and crowded, but warm showers, a kettle, and the camaraderie of fellow swimmers make it a wonderful cocoon from the outside world.

It seems only right. Brighton (or Brighthelmstone as it was) practically invented the very English practice of immersing oneself in icy seawater for the good of ones constitution. My new friends are continuing this fine tradition, to the eternal amusement of of local onlookers and journalists, who find the whole practice rather quaint and eccentric.

In reality, there's no over-dramatic derring-do involved - just a healthy respect for the power of the ocean. The swimmers don't consider themselves heroes or nutters; they just love starting the day the way they do. And it's a priviledge to be joining them.

Another member of the Club is Flickr legend lomokev, who has captured the fun of sea swimming perfectly with his photos.

Books Stink

2006-12-30T14:41:00.000Z

Christmas shopping in a busy Brighton bookshop on the 23rd December.

A harassed-looking teenage girl walks in, followed by two restless young boys.

One of the boys exclaims "Cor, it stinks in 'ere!"

His elder sister explains: "Course it does - it's a bookshop."

"Where's Kiefer?"